Rainbow Moons
by MollyCoddles
Summary: From 'Pillow Talk' to 'Just Desserts', Remus and Tonks find life together is filled with discussions and distractions. Assorted ficlets in flavours ranging from sweet to spicy.
1. A Summer Sonata

Disclaimer:Not JKR or Charles Dickens, though I thoroughly enjoyed turning Remus into Scrooge.

A/N: This fic was written for the LJ Metamorficmoon challenge, using the prompts: A Weird Sisters concert, Imperturbable Charm, Day of forgetfulness and Humor.

_**A Summer Sonata**_

Sirius Black was dead, that was a fact beyond doubt or reservation. Remus Lupin had witnessed his death personally, having seen him fall through the inescapable, yawning maw of the Veil at the Ministry of Magic a year prior. He was, as a matter of fact, deader than a doornail, or perhaps a coffin nail, except of course there was no coffin.

Despite his partners' deaths (for there had been others lost besides Sirius) Lupin had never removed their names from the projects they had worked on together. The Marauders' Map, for instance, still bore the names "Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs" with pride, and still functioned as well as it had when they'd created it. Had anyone these days referred to the Marauders, Lupin would answer for all of them, for it was all the same to him.

Remus, always a restrained and reticent sort, had become more so in the year since Sirius's death. He threw himself into his duties with single-minded determination, disregarding any activities that may have brought him delight. No one ever stopped him in the streets to exchange pleasantries or ask the time. Indeed, many crossed the street or ducked into alleyways simply to avoid meeting up with him on the walking path. He had a frosty look about him: No warmth seemed able to thaw him, and cold seemed to have no effect on his spare frame, perpetually furrowed brow or thinly pursed lips.

As a known werewolf, he expected such treatment. But what did it matter to him? It was how he preferred it, he told himself, repelling all efforts at human sympathy from acquaintances.

It so happened his duties had brought him to Hogwarts one evening in early summer. Dumbledore had enlisted his assistance patrolling the school. Death Eaters had stormed the halls, and in the melee, Dumbledore himself had been killed.

Lupin left the school alone with his thoughts that night. He took a meager meal in a melancholy tavern and, his mind fuller than his stomach, went home to bed. He lived in quarters which had once belonged to his deceased partner, in a gloomy suite of rooms.

The fog hung so thickly about the old gateway to the Black house, it seemed dementors hung about the threshold, breeding in baleful bacchanalia.

For a disconcerting moment, the knocker seemed to shift into a familiar face, but Lupin pushed the ludicrous thought aside with a muttered epithet and entered, closing the door with a bang.

The sound echoed through the house, and a familiar shrieking pealed, though it did not make the house any less lonely for the noise.

He ascended the stairs, reached his room and entered, closing the door. With a flick, he'd lit a small flame in the hearth. He stared into the fire before his gaze drifted to the mantel tiles. In the shadows and smoke cast by flickering flame, the same familiar face seemed to form. He shook off the gloomy pall with a muttered, "Peppermint Humbugs!"

As though his utterance had triggered something altogether more horrifying than mint candies, the bell in his room began clanging, as did all other bells throughout the house. Whether minutes or hours, Lupin could not say, but when the din subsided, he became aware of a more worrisome sound. A dragging, clanking noise began far below, deep within the house, creeping nearer and nearer, thumping and banging up the stairs until it burst through his very door.

"Sirius?" Remus stared incredulously at the hazy shape before him. For it was Sirius: the lank hair, steely gray eyes and wizard robes he remembered so well. He noted the chains around his middle, wrists and ankles, and a scarf tied round his head and chin.

"Yes, t'is I." Sirius mournfully clinked his chains, helping himself to a chair.

"Since when are you a ghost?" Lupin asked skeptically.

"It seems the merest blink to me," Sirius began hollowly, "but I suspect it has been seven years."

"No, actually," Lupin corrected. "Just the one."

"Well it's not like I have a watch," the spirit said, his glare full of reproach. "And no time spent on regrets makes up for wasted opportunities in life!" He said, dramatically flourishing his chains.

"You took every opportunity life presented you with," said Lupin, raising a brow. "And a fair few it didn't." He stared at the spirit closely. "Are you a ghost all the time? You didn't really seem the unhappy soul type."

"No, no, I came back just this once to give you a warning," said Sirius hastily, clearing his throat before continuing in a sepulchral voice, "Heed the warning! You will soon be visited by three spirits! One at a time." He heralded his announcement with much clinking and jangling of chains.

"Three?" Lupin frowned. "When am I supposed to sleep? Can't they all come at once and get it over with?"

"No, and if you don't shut your incessant whinging and pay attention, you'll be doomed to share my fate," Sirius growled.

"Just what is your fate?" Lupin asked, not entirely desperate with curiosity.

"Eternal bachelorhood," said Sirius, melodramatically covering his eyes with the back of his hand.

Lupin snorted, shaking his head. "Have you a purpose for the chains and headwrap?" he asked.

"Ah." Sirius gazed heavenward, scratching behind his ear. "Emmeline and I were playing dentist. She said it's a, erm, Muggle game."

Lupin raised a brow. "And the chains?" he prompted.

"Just for fun," Sirius wiggled his eyebrows. He took a step back and seemed to stumble, his body arching almost gracefully, in slow motion, tumbling backwards and falling, falling through the window, causing the curtain to waver gently as if a breeze had tugged at it.

Lupin grimaced. "Sirius, you have _got_ to learn to stay away from curtains."

ooOOoo

Lupin awoke to the sound of clock chimes. Twelve gongs resounded through the ancient manse. He knew this to be impossible, for he had not gone to bed until past two. He was not overly concerned, and merely dismissed the reliability of a grandfather clock that continually shot bolts at passers-by.

He considered again the words of Sirius Black as he absently listened to the clock chime the quarter hour three separate times. He briefly entertained the idea of rising to find a book when he heard a single resounding gong that marked the early hour.

He waited expectantly. With a sudden flash of light and yanking of bed curtains, Lupin found himself face to face with an unearthly being. It was a strange figure, like a child – yet not like a child so much as an old man wearing women's garments. Its hair was white with age; and yet the face had nary a wrinkle and glowed with good health. The arms were long and strapping, and like the feet, were bare. The tunic was radiant white, as if lit from within. In one hand was a curious bouquet of fresh holly and summer flowers. Strangest of all was the beam of light emanating from the top of the spirit's head. His hat was tucked under his arm.

"Are you the first spirit Sirius mentioned?" Lupin asked.

"I am," the voice gently replied, sounding far away. "I the first of the three Wyrd Sisters of fate to visit you tonight. I am Urth, Norn of the Past, although you may know me best as one of the three faces of Hecate, for I am also Luna, the maiden phase of the moon."

"You look rather like Albus Dumbledore," Lupin commented slowly, his brow furrowed.

'Urth' gave a swift glance around the room, leaning in with a conspiratorial air and a telltale twinkle in his eye. "Perhaps, but who am I to pass up such a delightful opportunity as an evening escapade?"

The spirit placed his hands on each of Lupin's shoulders, appraising him closely. "I hope you are not grieving overmuch for me," he said gently. "Death is the next great adventure, and while not a true spirit, I am not as far departed as some would believe."

Lupin blinked quickly, pressing his fingers to his lips as he tipped his face ceilingward. He cleared his throat to dislodge the lump that had formed there before asking, "So you are here to talk about the past? Shall I fetch tea, perhaps?"

"Not just the past," said the spirit, smileding genially. "Your past. Come." He placed a palm upon Lupin's chest.

Together, they passed through a solid wall and emerged in a country lane. They meandered along the path, and Lupin exclaimed in delight several times. "Just there! The tree I used to climb, until I fell and broke my finger. And there! The pond where I nearly drowned learning to swim!"

They approached a comfortable-looking bungalow. Upon sight of it, Lupin fairly crowed with excitement. They neared the home and Lupin hastily moved to peer through a window. "My old schoolroom," he said, smiling fondly. After a moment, he noticed a small boy alone at a desk, reading. "Ah, such tales I read! The friends I discovered and places I visited." He continued to observe the boy, who –as if sensing interlopers – put down his book and neared the very window from which they watched him. He knelt on the window seat with his elbows on the ledge. Loneliness was etched into his small face, and sadness glimmered his eyes.

"It was difficult to always be alone." He paused then, staring down at his own feet. "I had forgotten."

Urth prompted him. "What is the matter?"

"It's nothing." Lupin pressed his lips together. "Only… I wished for a moment that I had spent time with Harry as he grew." He paused. "He was better off without me in his life, though, I'm sure..."

They turned, but rather than facing the country lane they had wandered, Lupin was surprised to see the familiar streets of Hogsmeade. They slipped through the wall of the Three Broomsticks and Lupin saw faces that made his heart leap. "James! Sirius! Peter…" And then he noticed a young version of himself, quite happily using his wand to help clear the floor of tables and chairs.

Someone started music playing and young people clapped and tapped their toes to the rhythm. Before long, a sprightly tune began and couples began to take to the floor, robes swirling and billowing as they twirled. "Ah, there," he said, pointing. "James and Lily." He smiled as he watched, reflecting, "James convinced her it was her duty as Head Girl to dance with him at the Halloween Feast and they were inseparable by Christmas. We came here after the Leaving Feast. James had somehow talked her into sneaking into Hogsmeade with us."

They stayed awhile, enjoying the happy scene. In a dimly lit corner, a couple he did not recognize caught his eye. The man was dark with silver accents highlighting his hair. A young woman smiled adoringly up at him, leaning forward to murmur something that made him laugh.

"An unlikely pair." Lupin inclined his head to indicate the couple.

"Where is the rule that makes happiness unlawful as we grow older?" the spirit asked. "You believe it preferable to have them both miserable and alone because of his age?"

Lupin gave the spirit a sharp glance, but before he could form a retort, the spirit guided him to another – and very recent - scene.

There were people gathered in a hospital room, sitting and standing near the bedside of a young man who was being tended by his fiancé.

"You see!" A strained voice on the other side of the room carried to his ears and twisted his stomach. "She still wants to marry him, even though he's been bitten. She doesn't care!"

"It's different…" Lupin heard his own voice trail off in a near whisper.

"But I don't care either, I don't care!" The slip of a girl had seized the front of his robes and shaken him. "I've told you a million times…"

Lupin's jaw clenched as he watched the scene unfold. "What right have they to marry? There would be nothing but pain, disappointment and poverty."

"True wealth cannot be measured in Galleons, but by the heart," Urth chastised. Poverty within is as dire as poverty without." The spirit gave him an unfathomable look and as the mists swirled again, Lupin heard the echo of Professor McGonagall's voice: "Dumbledore would be happier than anybody to think that there was a little more love in the world." Lupin found himself alone again in his bedchambers, where he collapsed, exhausted, on his bed.

ooOOoo

The clock gonged again, startling Lupin from his slumber. Remembering Sirius's words, he sat up, waiting and watching for the second spirit. The minutes ticked by, and Lupin frowned. Finally, when the clock chimed the quarter hour, he arose from his bed. The moment his hand touched the knob on his door, he heard a soft, feminine voice call his name.

He turned to behold the largest woman he had ever seen. She was bedecked in voluminous emerald green robes trimmed with white fur and jewels fairly dripping from her ears, neck and fingers. A wreath of holly and roses adorned her brow.

"I am Verthandi, the second of the Wyrd Sisters. I am Norn of the Present. You may know me as Hecate's second face; Diana, the goddess of the mother phase, or full moon."

"Are you from France?" Lupin inquired. "You resemble someone I've met."

The spirit gave him an imperious look that discouraged questions. "Touch my robe."

Lupin shrugged slightly and complied. No time like the present, he thought wryly.

With a gentle twist, he found himself gazing upon a scene in a home he knew well. Arthur and Molly Weasley had arrived at the Burrow, presumably after leaving their eldest son in a hospital bed at Hogwarts.

"Bill won't be coming home for some time," Mrs. Weasley said sadly, brushing soot from her shabby robe.

"No," her husband consoled. "But Charlie, Fred and George are here now, and Ron and Ginny will be home soon. And we'll have Harry as well."

Mrs. Weasley nodded and determinedly began bustling around the kitchen, readying a meal. She was soon joined by a pair of young Weasleys who were whirlwinds of motion as they noisily drew up chairs while their elder brother set the table.

As the family gathered and claimed seats, Mrs. Weasley brought out roast chickens and a bowl of potatoes whipped to glorious fluffiness. She surveyed the table with some small amount of pride as she watched her family fill their plates and appetites. When the meal had all but vanished, she brought out a treacle tart that had her brood moaning in anticipation.

Before cutting into the tart, Mr. Weasley held aloft his chipped tea mug. "To Dumbledore, and the Order of the Phoenix." It was shortly joined by battered goblets and a glass that had once been a jelly jar, sloshing pumpkin juice as they clinked together following the others' murmured "To Dumbledore." They surreptitiously glanced at the ominously empty spaces around their table with trepidation, but gave one another fortifying looks all the same.

As Lupin and the spirit departed, Lupin wondered aloud how it was possible for such a family to find any happiness in the world. "Their robes are patched and frayed, their shoes worn, yet despite their hardships and the inevitable peril ahead, they persevere. They've been through war before. They brought seven children into the world during that horrible time!" He shook his head in disbelief.

The spirit smiled enigmatically. "They are Gryffindors."

In a moment the scene swirled and flickered past other families together at other tables, finally pausing to observe a morose young woman, dragging her feet as she walked slump-shouldered and quite alone down a dark sidewalk, seemingly heedless of her surroundings.

"That's not safe," Lupin exclaimed, aghast. "She cannot be so miserable and angry that she neglects her own safety and welfare."

"You have forgotten. She does not care," the spirit reminded, repeating, _"She does not care."_

With a flick of a robe, the scene vanished again, to be replaced with his bedroom once more.

Lupin noticed a scrabbling paw emerge from under the spirit's robes. "What have you there?" he asked distractedly.

The spirit moved the fabric aside without hesitation. Two house-elves crouched under the voluminous layers, eyes aglow and skin like dried and crumpled parchment.

"Are they yours?" Lupin asked.

"No," the spirit replied, looking down at them. "They are yours. One is named Martyr and the other is Altruism. Beware them both, for allowed to roam at will, are capable of great harm."

"How is it possible for either to be a threat?" Lupin scoffed.

"You hold them too dear," the spirit replied. "Even good things can be detrimental when they are overdone and unnecessary."

Lupin regarded his scuffed slippers, ridiculously recalling the poetic warning from his old Herbology professor. "Dragon dung makes flowers fit, but too much makes a pile of…" Lupin glanced up to speak to the spirit, but she was gone. Down the hall, the clock gonged again, twelve times. He gazed upwards, noting spiders spinning, suspended from the ceiling. When he brought his eyes down again, he beheld the approach of the final, and most frightening, phantom.

ooOOoo

The figure glided ever nearer, hovering in the darkness, filling Lupin with the prickly dread that accompanied the proximity of a particularly hungry dementor.

"Are you are the Norn of the Future Fate, by the name of Skuld?" Lupin asked. "Also known as Hecate's third face, the Crone moon?"

The spirit did not answer, but the black fabric folds that formed the hood wrinkled, and seemed to indicate an affirmative answer.

"Lead on then, spirit," said Lupin grimly. "I know you have a lesson to teach and time is of the essence."

The spirit turned and Lupin followed in its shadow. As before, the bedchamber faded, but this time was replaced by a busy street in London. He saw a familiar face that gave him a pang. The dark, unruly hair and wire-rimmed glasses were the same, but the form was no longer that of a boy. Here was a full-grown man, having a conversation with a peer.

"I don't know the details," Harry said. "I just know he's dead."

"Will there be a funeral, do you suppose?" his friend asked.

"I don't know," Harry responded with a shrug. "I suppose I will find out. If nothing is planned, I will have something put together for him, since he was a friend of my father's."

A chill stole through Lupin's heart at those words. Who was this dead friend of Harry's father? Hagrid, perhaps? He looked around for some older version of himself, wondering over the answer.

The spirit shook its garment and the scene faded, replaced by the inside of a flat Lupin knew well. A middle-aged woman sat alone on the bed, sorting items in a shoebox. Photographs, knick-knacks and mementoes spilled over the sides. A carefully pressed flower, a scrap of paper from a fortune cookie and a ticket stub from the cinema all found their way to the trash bin next to her dangling foot. He noted several colourful shirts had been binned as well, along with an assortment of bright hair clips and socks. He gave the woman a closer look and was distressed to note her brunette locks were pinned back in a chignon nearly as severe as McGonagall's.

"Take me away from here," he commanded the spirit.

The spirit obliged, and the pair next found themselves overlooking a cemetery. The spectre wound its way through the graves and Lupin followed in its wake, though his feet became most unbearably heavy and unwilling. The spirit halted quite suddenly, and Lupin felt a chill that may have been from brushing the edge of its cloak, or perhaps a foreshadowing of the sight he beheld a moment later.

A small stone sat off-kilter, a good bit away from the others. Lupin crept forward, dreading the name he knew he must certainly read upon the plaque. Still, seeing his own name engraved in the granite knocked the breath from his lungs. "No," he gasped wildly. "Spirit! Tell me the future is not so set in stone as the names on these monuments! Why show me these things if there is no hope?" Lupin clutched at the spirit's robe. "Please, tell me I may yet change the shadows you have shown me!"

The spectral hand shook slightly. In his agony, Lupin grasped it tightly, struggling to hold fast even as the spirit fought to free itself. With one last plea to have his fate reversed, Lupin held out his hands in entreaty. The spirit paused, hovering for a split second before collapsing in upon itself.

ooOOoo

Lupin gasped as he jolted upright, fingers tightly wrapped in the bed curtains of his very own bed. His old Headmaster's voice echoed a reproach in his mind, "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

"No, sir, I will not forget again!" he fervently vowed to the empty air.

He leaped to his feet, dressing speedily in his best garments. He raced out of doors and Apparated to another part of London, rushing out of the alley only to promptly collide with a pedestrian. "My apologies, sir!" he cried, helping the stranger to his feet. "Could you tell me the date?"

The answer heartened him, and he raced up a set of narrow stairs to his destination. He knocked at a door, holding his breath, listening anxiously for the pad of soft footsteps on the other side.

"Who's there?"

"It's Remus," he said, an earnest tremor in his voice. "Please, may I come in?"

"What's my favourite haircolour?" asked the suspicious voice from within.

"Light brown with streaks of grey?"

The door opened a crack. "Why are you here?"

"I want to talk to you, and to apologise. I've been wrong – so terribly wrong – and I'm more sorry than I can say. Please, may I come in?" he implored.

She slowly opened the door enough to admit his entrance, closing it firmly behind him.

"What finally got through your Imperturbably thick skull?" she finally asked as he stood before her, hat in hand.

"The Wyrd Sisters haunted my dreams all night," he said gravely. "They were very persuasive." He reached for her hand and tried to project his sincerity through his gaze. "Do you have it in your heart to forgive and forget?"

His breath caught as she gave him a measuring look. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together before turning her back on him, pulling her hand away. His stomach plummeted… until he heard Tonks mutter security charms on the door. She turned back to face him, arms akimbo, challenge glinting in her eyes.

"Does this mean I can hire them to play at our wedding?"


	2. Just Desserts

Disclaimer: Not JKR

A/N: Written for LJ Metamorficmoon challenge using prompts: Owl Post Office, Ice Cream, Day of peace and Adventure.

_**Just Desserts**_

"Ah, _shite_," Nymphadora Tonks swore, ducking to shield two ice cream cones from a low-flying owl.

Remus Lupin, her werewolf consort, gave her a sidelong glance. "That would not be my choice for ice cream topping."

"Mine either, you prat." She eyed the birds swooping through the Owl Post Office suspiciously. A large toucan in the International Deliveries section seemed to be goggling at her cones with entirely too much interest.

"Psst," she hissed, nudging Remus with her elbow. "Does that bird in the corner remind you of anyone?"

Remus turned in the direction she indicated before giving Nymphadora reproachful look. "Of course Professor McGonagall looks familiar. And it hardly seems appropriate to call the new Headmistress of Hogwarts a bird."

"No, the actual _bird_, on the perch in the corner," she said with more than a touch of exasperation.

Remus turned again to consider the toucan more closely. "Hmm. You may have done coloured stripes like that around your nose once." His lips twitched. "But I don't think it was entirely intentional on your part."

"And if you want to see those colours again, you'll take me seriously," said Nymphadora warningly. She paused. "And don't even consider using that horrible pun I know you're thinking right now."

"Pun?" Remus widened his eyes innocently.

"Taking me Siriusly."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he denied, shaking his head emphatically.

"Right." She raised an eyebrow. "And you most certainly wouldn't say anything about his preference at being the top dog."

"Never."

She huffed in disbelief, turning sideways to make room for a witch who was leaving with a large dog on a leash.

She sighed, watching the witch's canine companion. "I do miss him," she whispered suddenly, her voice cracking a bit.

Remus slumped a bit and wrapped a comforting arm around her. "As do I. Losing Dumbledore seems to have made the grief… resurface."

They stood close together, quietly drawing comfort from one another as they waited their turn in queue.

Nymphadora felt her gaze drift back to the large tropical bird in the corner. Frowning, she cleared her throat and handed Remus his ice cream cone. "Here, best start on this before it starts dripping," she said, freeing a hand to swipe at a tear that was trying to sneak down her cheek.

"Doubtful anyone would notice," Remus observed, looking around the floor with evident distaste. "Why did you insist on ordering ice cream before running our errand in the Owl Post Office?"

"Because it's hot outside and even hotter in here," she retorted. "Now shut the hell up and eat your damned ice cream before it gets all feathery."

He chuckled and proceeded to demonstrate some rather impressive tongue maneuvers that made her half giggle and half wonder if she could transfigure herself into a frozen dessert. Or at least parts of her.

"Remind me to pick up a pint of this to take home for later," she whispered.

He smirked suggestively and reached to wipe a trace of sticky residue from the corner of her mouth. "As you wish."

Suddenly in rather a hurry to leave the stuffy Owl Post Office, Nymphadora glanced about in annoyance, craning her neck to see over the head of the witch ahead of them. With a huff of resigned frustration, she turned… and found the toucan staring malevolently at her yet again. The bird's beady black eyes sent a chill down her spine.

"You know," Remus mused, following her gaze. "I believe that toucan does look familiar. I think it is the one Sirius used occasionally. It does seem quite taken with you."

"How does it make you feel to know a bird fancies me?" she queried mischievously. "Just think, two birds with one stone."

But Remus had gone quite still, his eyes fixed suspiciously on the tropical bird.

"Really, love, there's no need for jealousy," she quipped.

"Remus?" Her brow furrowed uneasily when he didn't answer. "What is it?"

"I don't think that's a regular bird," he hissed under his breath, turning his head towards her and watching the black bird from the corner of his eye.

She surreptitiously slipped her wand from an inner pocket as Remus did the same. "Animagus, you think?"

Remus gave a barely perceptible nod.

"I'll cover you," she said simply.

Remus paused. "Not in here."

"How then?" she asked, raking her fingers through her lavender locks, wishing she'd chosen a less conspicuous colour for the day.

Remus pursed his lips and conjured a large cage just as the woman in front of them finished her transaction.

"Hello," he said politely to the clerk. "We have a package, and we'd like to use that handsome toucan over there to deliver it, please."

The clerk nodded once and pointed at the cage. "Whatchoo need tha' cage fer?"

"Well, we realized we forgot to put the card on our nephew's birthday present, so if you don't mind, we'll just pay now and take the bird home with us to send from there."

"Yeh kin take 'im, but I canna le' yeh put 'im in a cage." The clerk shook his head, reaching for the sickles Remus offered in payment. "He be a wily one. Won't go in no cage. I kin shove him through ta yer Floo, though, iffn yeh gimme yer address."

Nymphadora rattled off her Floo address without hesitation.

The clerk shuffled to the corner and grasped the toucan firmly; heading for the fireplace and passing close enough for Remus to discreetly tap the bird's tail with his wand.

"What do we do now?" Nymphadora asked.

"I've put a spell to keep him transforming," Remus answered, vanishing the cage. "Now, we will go to your flat to retrieve him. I can force him to transform if he's an Animagus. If he's not, no harm done and we simply send our package."

"And if he is?"

Remus looked grimly determined. "That depends entirely on _who _he is."

She narrowed her eyes and said accusingly, "You know, don't you."

"I have an idea," he said tersely.

"Just how many people did you coach through Animagus transformations?" she asked, incredulous. "And why can't you do it yourself?"

"Who says I can't?" he asked distractedly. "And I certainly never coached this one."

She stared, unsure whether to believe him or not.

"That's neither here nor there, Nymphadora," said Remus firmly. "We need to find out if my suspicions are correct. If so, this person could be very valuable to the Order."  
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back at Nymphadora's flat, they watched the huge bird flapping and swooping from corner to corner, knocking over lamps and sending knick-knacks crashing to the floor.

"How shall we catch him?" Nymphadora scowled at the mess the bird was making of her flat.

"Why don't you try?" he urged, controlling a quirk of his lips with difficulty. "You should be able to lure him into a burlap bag."

She shot him a scathing look. "Aurors don't go on snipe hunts."

Remus just raised a brow.

Nymphadora glared, then whipped around and shot the bird out of the air with a well-placed hex.

"Nice one," Remus complimented, sounding suitably impressed.

"Now make him transform," she demanded, keeping her wand trained on the still, feathery form.

"No." Remus shook his head. "Not without backup. We'll take him to Headquarters."

Picking up the ugly avian and dangling it by one bony ankle, she distastefully dropped it into the brown canvas-type bag Remus conjured.

"Why burlap?" she asked accusingly, indicating the bag. "Are you really trying to make me look like a new Auror fresh from a snipe hunt?"

"No," he corrected. "You look like a very competent Auror after a successful _Snape _hunt."

"We've got Snape?" Nymphadora stopped dead to goggle at him.

She whooped in delight, then just as suddenly, she cursed angrily.

Remus frowned at her mercurial mood swing. "What's wrong?"

"Bloody wanker made me forget the ice cream!"


	3. Pillow Talk

Disclaimer: Characters are JKRs, twisted imagination is mine. Written for rtchallenge at Livejournal.

* * *

**_Pillow Talk_**

"Your pillow is puffier than mine," said Lupin, critically eying the unevenness at the head of their bed. They'd only recently moved in together and were still sorting out some of the kinks associated with the new arrangement.

"Must be all those extra brains that flatten yours down," Tonks replied flippantly, tousling his neatly-combed hair. "My head, being full of fluff, lacks the impressive powers of compressibility that yours has."

He shot her a sidelong glance and stroked his jaw thoughtfully, contemplating various solutions to the grave mismatched pillow conundrum.

Rolling her eyes, Tonks reached over to fluff his pillow, plumping it to a height approximately equivalent to hers.

"Temporary, at best," he sighed dramatically, shaking his head.

"Y'know Remus," Tonks inspected the pillow critically. "It looks rather… _down_," she sniggered at her pun before continuing. "I think it may be suffering from…" she lowered her voice to a confidential whisper, "Pillow envy."

"Indeed?" Remus quirked a brow, rather intrigued by her imagination; if not the figment of fantasy she was spinning about supposed sensitivities, insecurities and feelings of inadequacy on the part of his pillow.

"Pillow enhancement," she nodded decisively. "That's what it needs to boost up its self-esteem."

"Seems as though the unfortunate pillow has enough issues already, without adding performance anxiety to its list of concerns," said Lupin with narrowed eyes. 

"No, it doesn't need _physical_ enhancement. The pillow just needs reassurance and encouragement; it will always be useful and needed," she hugged the soft shape to her body, kneading it gently.

Remus eyed the pillow thoughtfully. "If we're psychoanalyzing, Freud said 'Anatomy is destiny.' I think he'd agree that pouches of feathers are really best suited as head supports, and should not be encouraged to rise above their station in life."

"A cigar is just a cigar, eh?" Tonks gave him an incomprehensible look.

She chuckled fondly then. "Ah, Freud," she continued. "Oral stage: eat, sleep, suck and bite. Not necessarily in that order. What's not to like?"

Remus blinked for a moment, trying to reroute that tangential train of thought back on track, fearing ultimate derailment.

Tonks tilted her head, watching him closely. "Freud also said, "The impression forces itself upon one, that men measure by false standards; that everyone seeks power, success, riches for himself, and admires others who attain them, while undervaluing the truly precious thing in life."

"And that thing would be…"

"A soft, fluffy pillow."


	4. Order Maintenance

Disclaimer: Characters are JKRs, twisted imagination is mine. Originally written for rtchallenge at livejournal.

* * *

_Order Maintenance_

"Remus," her voice was cajoling and petulant at the same time. "Come away from that desk right now."

"Nymphadora," he huffed in mock exasperation. "I have Order business that needs doing."

"_I_ need doing," her voice dropped seductively. She slid off the bed and approached him from behind, draping her arms over his shoulders. When her lips against his neck seemingly had no effect, she turned her attention to his earlobe. _"Remus…" _she whispered.

He shivered, but valiantly struggled to keep his attention focused on his work. "Work before play," he stated firmly, though he made no effort to push her away.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," Tonks chuckled breathily, having shifted to his other ear. "If you aren't coming back to bed, let's go out."

He tipped his head back, eyes closed, as if praying for fortitude. He sighed, opening his eyes to regard the arched, glass-paned cutouts in the doors of his bookshelf. They had always reminded him of church windows.

The response she was effecting in his body was anything but holy, however. He supposed he could worship her body with religious fervor. Yes, he considered, he could easily become a zealot in that regard.

If he were Catholic he reckoned he'd have to spend a lot of time in a smallish confessional booth. He nearly grinned, thinking of a priest's reaction to his impure thoughts.

He blinked, already half a step behind when he realized she had changed tactics. He gave her a quizzical look as she slowly, slowly opened one of the bookcase doors. Her gaze was speculative as she looked from his face to the books on the shelves. She reached; softly, reverently stroking the spine of one heavy, leather-bound volume. She looked back to gauge his reaction as she turned the book upside down before putting it back, reaching for another. Pulling the second book off the shelf, she riffled the pages before replacing it… on the wrong shelf.

Her gaze hinted of more mischief in the making as she selected yet another book, repeating the process, except this time putting it on the wrong shelf, upside down and backwards. She moistened her lips, watching his lower left eyelid begin to twitch. She reached for a fourth book.

He set his jaw, refusing to give in to this battle of wills. She licked her index finger, moving to turn the page with her moist digit.

Remus nearly ground his teeth in frustration as she slid the book haphazardly back on a shelf – this time sideways. His breathing had quickened, his gaze flickered back and forth from the vindictive pink-haired pixie to the intentionally misplaced tomes.

"You are wicked," he whispered.

"Do I need to touch another one?" she leveled her gaze at him threateningly, wiggling her fingers ever-nearer to the open volume lying innocently on his desk.

His eyes narrowed. "Name your price, witch," he growled.

Triumph shone in her smug expression.


	5. Shooting for the Moon

Disclaimer: Not JKR.

A/N: Written for LJ Metamorficmoon challenge using prompts: Owl Post Office, Ice Cream, Day of peace and Adventure.

Thanks to Dizi 85 for the info and location of Feather Gelato. After the last chapter, I couldn't resist adding that tidbit in! Thanks for reading!

* * *

"_Perseverance is more prevailing than violence; and many things which cannot be overcome when they are together, yield themselves up when taken little by little."  
Plutarch 46 AD- 120 AD "_Lives_"_

**_Shooting for the Moon_**

_  
_Nymphadora Tonks sat hunched over her desk, frantically scribbling on a sheet of parchment by flickering candlelight. She paused to consult a map, then dipped her quill in the ink pot and continued her work.

She gasped and cursed under her breath when she heard a soft pop in the next room. She hurriedly scrambled to shuffle the papers together, folding the map haphazardly into the pile and nearly upending the candle in the process. "Damn, damn, damn, why is he always so blasted early?" She glanced at the clock and her frowned deepened to notice he wasn't early at all. "Well, why does he have to be so blasted punctual? Can the man never be late?"

Her grumbling continued until finally she exasperatedly stuffed the disorganized pile of parchment into a desk drawer, slammed it shut and cast about desperately for her wand. Her pockets yielded no hint of where she'd left it and as she spun slowly on her heel, she spotted no sign of it.

"Double damn!"

"Nymphadora?"

"No!" she cried. "Stay out! And none of your little Marauder tricks where you pull my desk drawer through the wall, either!"

The chuckle from the other side of the door was less than reassuring.

"I'm serious, Remus! You are not allowed in my drawers!"

"If you were Sirius, I'd have no interest in getting into your drawers," he drawled.

She flung the door open and stared at him. "Did you actually say that with a straight face?"

Remus approached her with a wicked smile, settling his hands on her hips. "Totally, utterly and thoroughly…" His lips brushed hers in greeting. _"Straight_."

"Don't try to distract me," she said warningly, pushing him away to better scan the rest of the more likely surfaces of her flat. "I'm looking for my wand."

Remus lifted a hand, presumably to brush a stray strand of violently violet hair from her face but plucked her wand from behind her ear instead.

She glared at him. "Thank you," she uttered, taking it from his hand with as much dignity as she could muster.

Remus clucked his tongue at her. "What would Moody say?"

"Well, if stowing it in your back pocket endangers buttocks, behind the ear must risk losing your head, I suppose," Nymphadora huffed. "Although I've already lost mine, so it hardly matters."

"Let me help you," he implored.

"No, this is a surprise for our honeymoon and I will do it myself," she said, her jaw set stubbornly.

"But the moon…" he protested.

"I am an Auror and I have everything under control," she insisted. "You have to trust me. If you can't trust me with this, then there is no point to a wedding, much less a honeymoon."

"Of course I trust you." He frowned. "It's the wolf I don't trust. I cannot comprehend why you set the wedding two days before a full moon and the honeymoon during."

"Because 'For better for worse, in sickness and in health,' includes all phases of the moon." Her eyebrows rose in challenge. "And because I have a plan."

"A plan," he repeated dubiously.

"Yes, you great nosy prat," she said, turning to put locking spells on her desk. Almost as an afterthought, she put an Imperturbable spell on the wall as well. "Besides, you've got the Wolfsbane."

"I'd feel better if I could help you plan this." He ducked his head a bit and gave her theat pleading look through his lashes that she normally could not resist. "It's unfair for you to do all the work."

Nymphadodra simply glared. "You really need to take some lessons from Arthur Weasley," she said.

His brows drew inward in apparent confusion.

"You need to learn to say 'Yes, dear,' and do whatever the hell I tell you."

"Can I build a flying car as well?" he queried dryly.

"I suppose…" She shrugged. "As long as you put expansion and cushioning spells on the backseat."

* * *

Next morning, after Remus had gone to work with the Weasley twins on a special project, Nymphadora took the sheaf of rumpled papers from her desk drawer and spread them out on her work surface once again. 

A few hours later, she had twelve rolls of parchment ready to take down to the Owl Post Office. She copied the map, folded it neatly, and replaced it on a bookshelf.

The short walk to the Owl Post Office was unremarkable except for the distinct lack of people in the shops or on the sidewalks. The Owl Post Office itself was a swarming hub of activity, however.

Owls fluttered in and out, barely pausing between deliveries. The tiny Scops owls caromed off the walls, swooping up notes and zooming out any conveniently open door or window. Larger tawny owls waited patiently for packages to be tied to their legs before soaring regally out into the sky.

Nymphadora watched in fascination as huge tropical-looking birds arrived and departed from a window marked "International Deliveries," and she felt a pang in her chest when she noticed an old pecked and scratched "Wanted" poster of Sirius Black. Surreptitiously, she pointed her wand at the poster and altered the image to depict Severus Snape instead. The image didn't move, and looked more like a caricature than photograph, but she'd never claimed to be an artist.

When it was finally her turn, she waited at the window for a harassed-looking clerk to help her. She carefully laid the small rolls of parchment on the counter and explained what she needed.

"It won't be cheap," the clerk warned, "even with the Ministry employee discount."

Nymphadora nodded, "I know."

When he gave her the total, she winced and handed over the Galleons with a sigh. This honeymoon scheme of hers was putting a rather large dent in her Gringotts account. Remus would have kittens if he knew, she thought. Still, she was a well-paid Auror, and she'd got a healthy bonus for her part in the capture of escaped Death Eaters the year before. She could afford it.

She gave the tropical birds one last fleeting glance as she left the Owl Post Office, beaming in anticipation. Her smile drifted off her face as she paused in front of Fortescue's empty ice cream parlor. She still felt guilty over his disappearance. She knew it wasn't her fault, and she hadn't even been on duty, but she was an Auror, and she'd failed to protect. He was a good man, and she missed him. Besides that, it was a hot August day, and a sundae would've been perfect. She sighed, trailing her hand over a dusty table and turned her face to the sky; watching the birds fly overhead.

* * *

Over the course of the next week, she saw several more varieties of avians as they delivered the responses to her missives. She particularly enjoyed the expressions on Remus's face when he saw each bird. He'd started out smug when he saw the blue crane. That look faded to confusion at the sight of an Arctic tern tapping at the window. His eyebrows met in a frown of concern when a Kookaburra and an American kestrel darted in and around each other, competing to reach Nymphadora first. A screechy white-bellied fish-eagle and Asian barred owl had him heading to the Potions cabinet for a headache potion. 

The Southern Boobook was the best, in Nymphadora's opinion, as it left Remus a "gift" in his pair of decrepit old loafers. Nymphadora gleefully binned them and immediately went out to buy him a new pair.

When a snowy owl came to the window, Remus hurried to admit the handsome bird and reached for the message, only to be cuffed about the head with a sharp wing.

Nymphadora snorted with suppressed giggles as she untied the message and offered the owl a drink and an owl treat.

"This isn't Hedwig, you know," she grinned.

"I gathered as much," said Remus dryly as he restored order to his owl-mussed hair.

"We're all set," she announced soon after the snowy owl's departure. "Every last detail has been attended to, and everything is going to be absolutely perfect. Have you started your potions?"

Remus gave her a tense nod, his gaze lingering worriedly on her notebook, in which she'd copied all the information the birds brought her.

"Do you think Hermione's suggestions have made a difference?" she asked.

He nodded absently. "The addition of Euphoria Elixir with peppermint has kept the depression and anger at bay, as well as improved sleep quality. Also, taking the potion in several small doses rather than one large cupful helps keep emotional levels stable rather than the usual spike and crash after ingesting a dose of Wolfsbane."

"I thought it was intriguing that she compared the werewolf to dementors," Nymphadora commented. "The way they both seem to feed off emotions."

"Transformations are far worse if I'm upset," Remus agreed. "And without Wolfsbane, the years when James and Sirius stayed with me on full moons were the easiest. Until now, of course." He smiled at her.

"Pity you can't do anything about the flavour," said Nymphadora, wrinkling her nose.

"Fred and George are working on that," said Remus with a shrug. "Those two have a gift for hiding potions in sweets. If it can be done, they'll find a way."

"How about the Shrinking Potion? Has that helped you recover faster?" Nymphadora asked. "Hermione said it turned a toad back to a tadpole, so it should help you and your joints feel younger and heal faster."

"Have you not noticed my distinct lack of creaking lately?" he asked with a quirked brow.

She rolled her eyes. "What'll you do now that you can't complain about your age anymore?" She pretended to think, tapping her nose and perusing the ceiling. "Oh, I know, you can pack."

He blinked. "How would I know what to pack if you refuse to tell me where we're going?"

"An. Good point," she replied. "Alright, I'll pack while you go pick up the tent from Perkins."

"Tent?" he asked faintly. "We're going camping?"

"Yes. Prepare to commune with nature."

"Communing with nature tends to be a problem when the moon is full, Nymphadora," he reminded her unnecessarily. He hesitated and turned in the doorway, "Have you thought to bring restraints?"

"I wasn't aware you were into that sort of thing," she answered, grinning and wiggling her eyebrows.

"Safety really is not a joking matter," he said reproachfully.

"No." She folded her arms across her chest. "It's an Auror matter. Especially now. Remus, I'm perfectly competent. Not only is it part of my job, it's part of us being partners. This isn't a burden you have to shoulder alone."

Remus stared toward the window as if the intensity of his gaze could impede the phases of the moon. "Could you at least share with your partner where you will be taking him in perfect safety?"

"Trust," she reminded him, shaking her head.

* * *

The wedding ceremony was held at the small Muggle church her father had attended as a child. Nymphadora wore a simple ivory gown and turned her hair a glossy chestnut shade so as not to offend the Muggle minister. Remus wore the new trousers and jacket she'd bought him. (He'd protested until Nymphadora snapped at him the day before, "If you were unconscious in hospital, I would dress you any way I wanted. Don't tempt me to put you there just to have that privilege!") 

The Ministry may not acknowledge their marriage as magically binding, but legally, they were husband and wife. Following a short reception where they were heartily congratulated by family and friends, Nymphadora levitated her bouquet above the crowd, grabbed Remus around the waist and spun, Apparating with a crack and leaving the bouquet to fall where it would.

"Where are we?" Remus blinked and glanced around.

"Ireland," she answered.

"Beautiful," he commented, tightening his grip. He tipped her face up and drank in her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.

"You look happy," he observed, smiling.

"I'm ecstatic," she corrected, her arms sliding up to circle his neck. As their lips met, she twisted sharply, leaving the remote countryside in Ireland reverberating with a crack of Apparition.

Remus gasped sharply when they landed. "Where are we now? And you really ought to warn me before you do that. I'm old, you know."

"You're _not _old," she said with rolling eyes. "We're in Iceland. We've got a few more jumps to make before we stop for the night."

"How long are we going to stay here?" Remus asked, his eyes taking in the landscape while he subtly applied warming charms to their traveling cloaks.

"Not long," Nymphadora replied with a shiver. "Our next stop is Greenland, then Newfoundland, Canada."

"What is in Canada?" he asked interestedly.

"Our tent," she chuckled, reaching for him again.

Another Apparition and then a Portkey brought them to a sandy beach overlooking the sea. Nymphadora was fairly panting with the exertion of Sidealong Apparition, but waved off Remus's concerned look. "I'm fine. I've had enough Apparating for one day, though."

"Perhaps you should rest," he said, glancing over her shoulder towards a thickly wooded area. "Where have you put the tent?"

"I set it up already," she replied proudly, pulling her wand from her robes to reveal the magically concealed tent. "I already made this trip once this week. I had to test the Apparition coordinates, so I set things up while I was here."

She released the security wards on the tent just as Remus scooped her in his arms and nudged the tent flap aside with his shoulder.

"Oh no!" she cried, dismayed. "Some animal must have got in. Look at the mess!"

"It's fine," he reassured, setting her feet back on the floor and clearing shredded tissue fragments and acorn pieces from the floor with a sweep of his wand. Folding her in his arms, he pulled her close. "It's better than fine. It's perfect." His lips claimed hers again, gently at first, becoming more insistent when she slid her hands under his shirt.

"You know the best part about coming here?" she asked, pulling away for a moment to undo the lacing spell at the back of her dress.

"What would that be?" His voice was hoarse as she let the gown pool on the floor.

With a smile of pure mischief as she reached for him, she replied, "The time zone. It's still early afternoon here, and I have plenty of ideas for filling those extra hours."

"And it's warmer than Greenland," he added, assisting her in her task of divesting him of his garments.

* * *

"What made you decide on Canada?" he asked later as they snuggled in an oversized, cushion-charmed sleeping bag in front of the fire. 

"Oh, you know," she answered vaguely, "Beautiful countryside, low population density, lots of isolated wooded areas… Seemed a good place to be alone together."

"I see," he said, nuzzling the back of her neck.

"And I heard they have excellent gelato."

She could feel his laughter rumble through her back.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. "Is there anything in the kitchen? I can fix us something."

"Mmm, unless the animals got everything. How did they get in, anyway? I thought I had the tent secure."

"It's nearly impossible to keep rodents out of anything," he answered, his voice edgy with distaste. "I'll go have a look."

She frowned and burrowed deeper in the sleeping bag until Remus reappeared. "I'm sorry, love, it looks like they've got into everything other than the eggs in the icebox and a box of fortune cookies. I cleaned up the mess, but we'll have to come up with something else for supper."

"We can't go into town," she said, sitting up. "I don't think I can stand to Apparate again, and it's too far to walk. I'm sorry, I should have thought of animals getting in." Her shoulders slumped.

"It's alright," he soothed. "I've got some ideas. Come; let's go see what we can find." He extended a hand and pulled her to her feet, entwining their fingers as they ducked out the tent flap.

He tugged her towards the trees and showed her where to look for wild strawberries and raspberries, conjuring a small bucket for her to put them in.

Remus conjured a basket for himself and collected dandelion greens, Echinacea flowers and leaves and wild leeks, onions and carrots.

Back in the tent, they washed the produce and set it in the icebox.

They walked down to the shore, where Remus gave her an encouraging smile before Summoning shellfish and fish from the ocean, placing them in a conjured pail.

Nymphadora followed along, trying her luck as well. She tried "_Accio Lobster,_" but squealed and banished it back to the ocean when she saw it zooming towards her, snapping its claws.

Remus chuckled and picked up the bucket. He made short work of cleaning the fish and they headed back to their campsite.

In the kitchen, he efficiently cooked the seafood and made a salad with some of the greens and berries.

"I never thought about getting food from anywhere but a grocer," Nymphadora marveled.

"Werewolves with more time than money learn to forage," he said with a shrug.

"Thank Merlin for that," she said fervently.

He turned from the cooktop to give her an odd look.

"I'm thankful for everything that makes you who you are." She smiled. "If not for the lycanthropy, you'd have let some other witch snap you up long ago with no argument and I'd just be staring at you during Order meetings. And if I was stranded in the wilderness I'd starve to death."

Remus still looked faintly bemused as he set the food on the table and absently took his last dose of potions for the day. Nymphadora poured the tea and they tucked into their meal. Relaxing with a cup of tea afterwards, Remus cracked open a fortune cookie.

"The great pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do," he read aloud.

"'In bed,'" Nymphadora reminded. "You know you have to add 'in bed' at the end. It's the rule."

"It is time for bed, I think," he chuckled. "You go ahead, I'll clear up."

"You're the best," she stretched and yawned as she rose from the table. "I'm shattered."

Remus tidied the kitchen and cast security spells, adding one that repelled rodents. After extinguishing the lights, he left the room and nearly stumbled over Nymphadora curled in the sleeping bag in front of the fire. He watched her sleep for several moments, brushing stray pink strands away from her face. He applied extra cushioning charms before tucking himself in next to her, drifting off to sleep with her in his arms.

In the morning, Nymphadora awoke to the smell of omelets and frying fish.

"Mmm, heavenly," she murmured, ducking between Remus and the cooktop to steal a kiss. "Good morning, love. Sleep well?"

"Never better," he answered cheerfully, pressing her against a cupboard as he leaned over to turn the fish.

"Ready for some adventure today?" she asked as she ducked under his arm to scoop eggs on her plate.

Remus raised a brow. "This isn't adventurous enough for you?"

"No, today we do some sight-seeing!" She grinned, eyes sparkling.

* * *

The "sight-seeing" Nymphadora had planned was a whirlwind tour of the United States. They started in Maine, popped over to Ohio, then stopped somewhere in the Midwest to sample the locally-made ice cream said to be the best in the state. 

In Idaho, they landed in the city of Blackfoot, the World Potato Capital. They posed for a photo with a huge potato wearing a crown and ate potatoes in more forms than they realized were possible. Remus was intrigued with a potato stress reliever he found and purchased in a gift shop.

"It looks like a regular potato, but I can squeeze it and it goes right back to its original shape," he marveled.

Nymphadora was amused. "If I throw it, would you fetch?"

Remus gave her a little frown and tucked his prize safely in his pocket.

They made a little jaunt down to explore the Grand Canyon before popping over to Las Vegas, Nevada, where they wandered the Strip before Apparating to California to set up camp.

That night, Nymphadora tried to distract Remus from his restless pacing. The moon was very nearly full and she knew he was feeling its inexorable pull. He'd taken his potions without fail and she knew she had all precautions in place, so she used her considerable powers of persuasion to help him relax.

Remus finally fell asleep clutching his new potato stress reliever and Nymphadora slipped from the bed to settle herself in a comfortable chair. She watched him sleep, only crawling back into bed after watching the sun rise.

Remus woke her shortly before noon with brunch on a tray. She gratefully snagged a rasher of bacon and sipped her cup of tea.

She rose from the bed and stretched, then packed their things and triggered a Portkey that took them to the black sand beaches of Hawaii, where it was still only mid-morning. They delighted in the sand, surf and one another. They picked up some souvenirs for their friends before sharing a cozy hammock for an afternoon nap.

When it was nearly sunset, Nymphadora activated another Portkey that took them to an island in the Pacific, then another to New Zealand, where they rested and admired the scenery over their tea before Apparating to Australia, where they found a likely spot to set up their tent.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Remus asked nervously.

"Ready for what?" Nymphadora feigned ignorance, avoiding his eye as she searched the icebox for ice cream.

"Nymphadora," said Remus in a warning tone. "The moon."

She looked up with a slyly triumphant grin. "You've missed it."

"Missed what?" he asked, frowning.

"The moon! If I've figured correctly, the moon was full here last night, while we were in California. It's already done and moved on. We crossed the International Date Line. It's the nineteenth here."

Remus's eyes widened.

"Dumbstruck with gratitude?" She gave him a saucy look. "You can start showing your appreciation at any time." She tilted her head to expose her throat. "I rather like your lips right here," she said, trailing her fingers along her neck.

"Unbelievable," he whispered, dropping heavily in a chair. "It can't be possible, can it?"

She shot him a look of mock exasperation. "Well, I suppose we can just sit up all night playing Scrabble and eating ice cream and see if you transform."

Still looking utterly shell-shocked, he merely nodded in agreement.

Lips quirked with amusement, she set up the game.

Several rounds later, Nymphadora was yawning hugely and Remus urged her to go to bed. "I'll stay up a bit and read, just to make sure nothing happens. And I will marvel over skipping a transformation." He pulled her close, his lips gentle as he communicated his gratitude. "Thank you for this. I haven't even words..."

She pulled back from his fervent kisses to smile. "I ought to take a photograph of this moment. It's not often you are struck speechless." She kissed the tip of his nose. "Now, unless you're completely trusting the success of this experiment and planning to throw caution to the wind, I suggest you stop what you're doing with your hands."

Remus sighed.

"Oh stop!" She laughed, swatted his shoulder lightly. "I know you have niggling doubts and wouldn't risk transforming while I'm in the room." One corner of her lips curved up. "Particularly not while I'm naked and your lips are on my neck." She kissed him lightly again, darting her tongue out to tickle his lower lip. "I sat up and watched over you last night, so I'm knackered, and you said you wanted to read and relax anyway. I'll just kip here." She gave him one last, lingering good night kiss between murmurs of "Love you," and "See you in the morning," before crawling into the sleeping bag on the floor at his feet where she drifted off almost immediately.

In the morning, she discovered he'd secured himself in the bedroom and slid his wand out under the door. She let herself in and insinuated herself into his quite untransformed arms.

She awoke some hours later to a pleasant ticklish sensation near her ear. She grinned and rolled to face him, happily giving better access.

"Wotcher, love," she wiggled closer.

"Mmm," he hummed against her skin. "Good… morning? Afternoon? I seem to have lost track of time."

"Early afternoon, I'd wager," she said, squinting at the window.

"What have you planned for today?" he inquired, his lips and fingers illustrating just how he'd like to spend the next hour or so.

"Thought I'd spend some time naked, in bed with my naked werewolf and his…" Her brow furrowed as reached under the blanket, pulling something out from under the coverlet. "And his squeaky toy?"

"It doesn't squeak," he said haughtily, deftly taking it from her grasp to carefully set it aside. "But… you do…"

* * *

Some time later, hunger drove them to the kitchen, where they put together some sandwiches and tea. 

"So you've really made no plans beyond this?" Remus queried.

"Nope." She bit into her sandwich with a sigh of satisfaction.

"We've already been camping, backpacking, hiking, beachcombing and fishing," he remarked. "What else is there?"

"Snorkeling on the reef?" she suggested. "That looked lovely in the brochure. Oh! And we simply have to visit this little shop in Sydney called World Wide Tastes. They have Feather Gelato that I have to try."

"I still cannot believe you planned all this," he said, shaking his head.

"You gave me the idea once ages ago." She shrugged. "I thought you'd done some research on it back in your student days."

"It was a theory, but I had no way to test it," he corrected. "I hadn't done any real research."

"So we've just proved your theory correct," she said, grinning happily. "I was so worried something wouldn't go right, after I spent so many hours figuring time zones and moon phases and setting up all the coordinates. And I felt like I was rushing us, trying to stay on such a tight schedule."

"How _did _you manage to get all the Apparation points and Portkeys set up?" he asked hesitantly. "I could never get around that difficulty; it was far too costly."

"I contacted international MLE departments for all of those, and a travel agency for campsites," she explained. "I arranged the Portkeys through the Ministry. I have Apparation points now to get us back home, going through Indonesia, Singapore, Thailand, Bangladesh…" She ticked them off on her fingers as she squinted at the ceiling, trying to remember the rest of the list. "Let me just show you the map."

She retrieved her copied map from her notebook and enlarged it, spreading it open on the table.

"Why did we stop in New Zealand?" he asked, "It seems a bit out of the way."

"Why not?" She pointed to the map. "See, from Bangladesh we'll go through parts of India and avoid the mountains. I've got a Portkey from there into Africa where we can go on safari, and then we can Apparate to Spain, France and then home."

"And how much time have you allotted for the rest of this jaunt around the globe, Nymphadora?" he asked.

"Well, we have a few days… But I wanted to ask how strenuous this trip has been on you first."

"No worse than transformation," he said. "Though traveling is stressful in its own way. And it makes me uneasy being so far from home, especially now. Why?"

"I've had this idea, you see," she began. "If you somehow contacted the other werewolves, you could share this. You could be a sort of travel agent offering Werewolf Tours. It's something Voldemort would never give them, and it could mean more freedom than they've ever known."

"I couldn't possibly be gone every full moon."

"You wouldn't have to," she said. "Bill could go sometimes, or Charlie, or you could appoint someone else. I think not transforming every month would allow many of them to get back on their feet. They would not have to admit lycanthropy if they don't actually transform. They'd just need an excuse for missing a few days of work once a month. They could claim it was part of their religion or something."

Remus silently considered the possibilities.

"It might even be possible to get a grant through Magical Creature Research to help fund it," she said thoughtfully.

"Reusable Portkeys would simplify and considerably shorten the trip," Remus mused.

"You can think about it later," she said, waving her hand as though shooing an insect. "Let's use Bubblehead Charms and go for a swim. You think we dare go skinny dipping?"

* * *

"I've learned a great deal recently," said Remus several days later, unpacking his things back in their suite at Grimmauld Place. "Proof that old dogs can indeed be taught new tricks, I suppose." 

"You're not old," Nymphadora answered automatically.

"Not as old as I used to feel," he agreed.

"You're not poor, either, so don't bring up that tired argument," she said with a suspicious frown.

"No, you've made me realize I'm wealthy beyond my comprehension." He smiled. "It seems you've a knack for turning stumbling blocks to stepping stones."

"Stumbling _is _rather a specialty of mine." She moved closer, reaching to loosen his tie. "And as for stones, I think Confucius once said: 'Tis better to have a diamond with flaws than a common stone with none.'"

"And how would you have me respond to a statement like that?" he asked lightly, hooking his thumbs snugly in the waistband of her jeans.

She gave him a saucy grin as she slid nimble fingers under his shirt. "With, 'in bed,' of course."


	6. Spell Checker

Disclaimer: No profit, no offense intended to JKR or Jim Henson, etc, etc.

A/N: I admire teachers everywhere. I couldn't do it. I haven't got the patience. Nor enough red pens…

**_Spell-Checker_**

"_Even James and Sirius weren't this bad,"_ Remus sighed after pulling a scroll of parchment from the pile.

**Voldermort was the most vial wizard ever.**

He closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose and wondered how Voldemort would have punished the irreverent 17-year-old who dared misspell his name. _Voldermort?_ Sounded like a Dutch Laundromat. Or something the Muppets Swedish Chef sang about.

And really, after a minimum of five years of Potions, this child ought to know the difference between _vile_ and _vial_. Then again, experiences in Potions may have caused the confusion in the first place, he supposed.

Remus marked corrections with red ink and read on, beginning to regret the assignment he'd set the seventh years. He enjoyed teaching, and was happy to cover Snape's DADA position for a year while he went on sabbatical, but he much preferred using practical applications to teach. Judging by the copious number of red inkwells Snape had left in the supply cupboard, he preferred a written curriculum. Privately, Remus wondered if Snape found vindictive pleasure in leaving the welts of red correction marks on students' parchments.

**Than, Harry Potter defeated him when he was just a baby, but he had to loose his parent's. His mum was Lilly and his dad was James. James could turn into a dear.**

'_Than' is a word of comparison, as in: taller than a tree, or smaller than a mouse,_ he wrote in the margin with a sigh. _'Then' refers to time, which is what you should use in this instance. 'Loose' rhymes with goose, and means something entirely different than 'lose,' _he jotted.

'Loose' tended to be an adjective associated with the morals of the girls Sirius liked to date, he reflected, though he didn't add that to the note when he continued.

_Apostrophes show possession or contraction, not plural._ He circled the offending little mark. _Harry's mother's name was spelled 'Lily,' and while she was allowed to call James 'Dear,' the rest of us called him 'Prongs,' which referred to his Animagus stag (male deer) form._

**The sight where the curse hit his head left a scar that wood not heel, even when the scab pealed off. He got used to baring the pane and developed nerves of steal. I herd he could reek havoc on his hole bunch of Muggle relatives and strike tare in there harts. His Ant was a hoe and never even let Harry have any male or calls, and she hated his hare and made him get heircuts all the time.**

Remus blinked and reread the paragraph. He summoned a new red inkwell.

_Sight is vision. You meant to use 'site,' meaning location. 'Wood' is from a tree. 'Heel' is part of your foot, and 'peal' is the sound a bell makes. 'Baring the pane,' as you wrote it, would mean uncovering a window, and 'steel' implies strength, where 'steal' is theft. 'Herd' is a group of cattle, which would definitely reek, which means stink. _(Which this essay very clearly does, he thought privately.)_ A 'hole' is often found in the ground, and 'tare' should be 'terror.' A 'hart' is a type of deer, an 'ant' is an insect rather than a relative that could be compared to a garden implement, and Harry was not allowed to receive 'mail'. If he'd had a pet 'hare,' his aunt may very well have disliked it, but not to the point of having Harry neutered. _

Remus made a face of cringing amusement, imagining relating that particular unfortunate pun to his surrogate nephew. He shook his head and read on.

**He must have had led in his feat in his forth year when he got sined up for a tournament. I can't believe he didn't chock, but I herd he road a dragoon and it's breathe was fowl! I bet he thought he'd tern around, dye and get berried!**

Remus scratched the ridge of his ear with an elegant finger and mused on the wisdom of home schooling. Normally, it was a wonderful thing, but in this case, a tutor may have been a wise investment.

'_Lead' is the heavy metal you are thinking of. 'Feet' are what you walk on; particularly when you venture 'forth,' rather than 'fourth,' as in the year you meant to refer to. 'Sine' is a mathematical term. 'Chock' is a block, which would surely be a choking hazard. 'Heard' is what you did using your ears and past tense of 'ride' is 'rode.' A 'dragon' is a beast. A 'breath' is something you take, and 'breathe' is something you do. A 'fowl' is a chicken. Similarly, a 'tern' is a bird. 'Dye' is to color, and while you can die from eating poisonous berries, you meant to say 'buried.'_

**He poured over many books and even peaked in the Restricted section, but I no your not going too believe it when you here a house-elf gave him the gillyweed to swim and save his best mate.**

'_Poured' refers to dumping a liquid substance, and 'peak' is a summit. 'Poring' and 'peek' are what you meant. You ought to 'know' that 'no' is a negative answer and it should be 'you're' rather than 'your.' 'Too' should be 'to' and 'hear' goes with ear._

**The last part of the tournament was the maize. He wiped his wand at a giant spider and had to chose if he or Cedric should take the cup. How inciting! Rita Skeeter rote about the first parts, and come rein or shine, the _Prophet_ will get threw. Still, no one new when he one.**

Remus wiped a hand over his eyes. No one could really be this bad accidentally. He began to wonder if the Weasley twins had begun marketing a Homophone Handwriter without his knowledge.

'_Maize' is corn, and 'whipping' is occasionally used to describe wand movement utilized to repel spiders. 'Choose' is the verb tense you should use in that sentence, and I think you mean 'exciting' rather than 'inciting,' which is a word most often used to describe how riots begin. 'Wrote' is what Skeeter did, and 'rain' is what falls from the sky. 'Threw' means 'tossed,' which is appropriate when describing the _Prophet_, but 'through' is the word you meant to use. 'New' means not old, and 'knew' implies knowledge. 'One' is a singular term, where 'won' means victory._

**What they didn't rite was Harry was racked with gilt because Voldemort came back that knight. He maid Harry lie on a tombstone and he took blood from a mane vane to make a new body with his old sole.**

'_Rite' is a ritual, and 'racked with gilt' implies he was tied to a frame and covered with gold. A 'knight' rides a horse, often to rescue a fair 'maid.' 'Mane' is neck hair on a horse, and a 'vane' shows wind direction. 'Sole' is the bottom of your foot._

Remus noticed the tip of his quill was getting dull.

**Someday, I hope heal by his girlfriend Ginerva a wring. That would be grate.**

'_He'll' is the contraction for 'he will,' and Ginevra would surely appreciate a 'ring' more than a 'wring,' but he'll have to 'buy' it rather than pass it 'by.' You also meant 'great,' rather than 'grate,' which is how you shred cheese._

He continued reading, marking the essay many times, using another whole bottle of red ink and shaking his head over the errors until finally, thankfully, he reached the bottom.

**Concrit appreciated.**

Remus huffed. What this essay needed was con_crete_ rather than constructive criticism. It was worthy of custom-poured paperweights that would drag it to the bottom of the lake. The giant squid would probably be offended and chuck it out again.

He frowned. There wasn't a name on the paper, and he didn't recognize the handwriting. His eyes narrowed. It rather reminded him of a gag essay that James had done for the Care of Magical Creatures professor, Mr. Kettleburn, back in their fourth year. He had known of the professor's penchant for reading aloud and had hidden a rather obscure switching spell within the text. Next day, the professor bore a distinct resemblance to Sirius, and with great mirth, Potter called Kettleburn Black.

Remus dragged his mind back to the present, inspecting the essay more intently. There was definitely something funny about it. The parchment had a different texture than the kind students generally used. He gave himself a mental shake for being overly paranoid. Not all students could be brilliant essay writers. This one just needed some extra guidance and helpful suggestions.

A soft tap at the door drew his attention away from his task.

"Come in," he invited.

A timid girl who looked vaguely familiar stepped hesitantly into his office, twisting the end of her long, sandy-coloured pigtail around her finger. She wore Hufflepuff colors and looked to be in her late teens.

"Can I help you?" he asked pleasantly. She appeared to be a sweet girl.

"Hello Professor Lupin, sir," she flushed prettily, unable to meet his eyes. "I was just wondering if you'd finished with my essay."

"I may have," he tried to reassure her with a smile. She was charmingly shy, which was a refreshing change from the wary or fearful reaction he often inspired in students once they discovered he was a werewolf. He guessed she was Muggleborn. "What's your name? I'm still getting to know everyone."

"That's why I came to your office," her voice was a mere whisper as she stared at the toe of her shoe, which she was self-consciously scraping on the floor. "I think I forgot to put my name on my paper."

"Ah," Remus kept his expression carefully neutral. He unobtrusively glanced back over his comments, hoping none of them were overly harsh. Definitely Muggleborn, he decided, which explained the different type of paper she'd used.

The girl shifted from foot to foot and chewed her lower lip. She sidled closer to his desk and a look of recognition flickered over her face at the sight of her essay in front of him. "Oh, there it is," she leaned across his desk, accidentally providing a view down the front of her blouse.

Remus quickly averted his gaze until she straightened.

Her brow furrowed as she began reading his notations. "I used a Spell Check quill," she frowned. "Isn't that supposed to check spelling? Or does it check spells? I thought those redheaded blokes told me it would help me spell better."

She sneezed quite suddenly, dropping her essay. It rolled back up as it hit the floor and bounced, ending up halfway across the room. She turned to retrieve it, bending over and providing another inadvertent sight.

Remus castigated himself for even noticing. As if he didn't feel like enough of a lecherous old man being with Tonks. Not that he was ogling the girl, but he found her appealing. She rather reminded him of Tonks, he decided, dropping things and being generally awkward. No wonder he seemed to have developed an instant soft spot for her. Yes, he told himself, that would make sense. It was logical for him to think fondly of anyone that reminded him of the woman he loved.

"No," he explained gently. "You see, your spelling isn't the problem. A spell-checking quill wouldn't catch these errors because they aren't spelled incorrectly; they're simply different words that sound the same. They're called homophones. For instance, in this sentence," he pointed to her paper as she unrolled it on his desk, standing next to him, "'**Sum people think pure-blood wizards should not be aloud to merry Muggleborn woman because it runes the bloodline**.' 'Sum' means adding numbers. 'Aloud' means to say something out loud, 'merry' means happy, 'woman' should be spelled '-en' to show plural, and 'runes' are symbols rather than destruction."

He drew his finger down to the next corrections.

**Those retched Death Eaters believed in blood purity, and it took shear Gryffindor bravery to beet them. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs could never except that kind of persecution either, and in the end, people from awl houses played a roll in Voldermort's defeat.**

"Now, you see, 'retch' means to vomit. You need a 'w' for 'wretched.' 'Weigh' implies using scales, 'shear' is to cut wool off a sheep, a 'beet' is a red vegetable, 'except' should be 'accept,' an 'awl' is a tool used to punch holes, and 'roll' means to tumble."

Remus observed the girl carefully, watching for signs of distress, or worse, tears. "Your essay is acceptable if it's read aloud, you see, so I am only asking that you look up the definitions for all the circled words to gain an understanding…"

His heart sank when he noticed her lower lip begin to tremble.

"You m-must think I'm so stupid," she sniffled, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

He stood, reaching to awkwardly pat her shoulder, "No, of course not," he offered, wondering how Snape dealt with the poor girl and feeling a rush of sympathy. "You're not stupid at all. Homophones can be difficult."

Remus was a little disconcerted when she flung herself into his arms. He gingerly squeezed her shoulders, mentally reviewing the teaching handbook and wondering if there was a policy regarding hugging students. As the girl swiped at her eyes again, he noticed the color of her fingernails and frowned. He dipped his head ever-so-slightly to catch a whiff of her shampoo. A knowing smirk tickled the corners of his lips. He returned the hug with a bit more enthusiasm.

He tipped his head to the side when she released him and backed away a step. Her robe had come unfastened and he noticed her skirt was uncommonly short. Her blouse was a bit too snug, and strategically unbuttoned at the neck.

"_Two can play at this game," _he smiled inwardly.

"I can help you, if you'd like," he offered, turning to reach for his dictionary on a low shelf.

"Perfect," her soft voice murmured.

Remus nearly chuckled. He wondered if she realized her gig was up. Morphing into a teenage girl was unusual for Tonks. He'd caught her several times morphing to look a bit older to match him. She knew he was still a bit sensitive about their age difference and tried to make him forget it as often as possible. This morphing and dressing to look like a student was a bit disturbing, and yet... well, he just kept telling himself she was merely cute.

Flipping the dictionary open, he motioned her over to sit at his desk. As she bent to read various definitions, he edged closer, brushing her hand as he pointed out words. He hid a grin when he felt her tense as he invaded her personal space. He bent closer, reaching over her shoulder to turn the page, smiling when he noticed her breathing had gone shallow and erratic.

He moved his hand again under the guise of pointing out a new word, this time leaving his fingers resting over hers. Her eyes met his then, and the unfettered desire was clearly apparent as she tipped her chin up, easily closing the distance between their lips.

In the back of his mind, Remus heard the flare of his floo, but ignored it while he explored intriguingly chocolate-flavored lips.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" a shocked voice gasped, causing Remus's breath to catch as he spun on his heel. He choked and sputtered in shock as he faced the head of a very angry-looking pink-haired witch in the fire.

"I - I thought she was you in disguise!" he gasped, backing away rapidly. His eyes fell on the pig-tailed girl in his office and he began apologizing profusely. The girl had ducked her head, turning away from him to avoid his eyes. Her shoulders shook. Tonks disappeared from the fire, presumably to make the trip in person so she could strangle him with her bare hands. She was an Auror, after all, accustomed to using deadly force.

"Oh Godric, what have I done," Remus moaned, covering his face with his hands.

The girl in the corner was still quivering. Cringing, he slowly approached her. "I am so unbelievably sorry," he began. He noticed the noises she was making sounded like breathless giggles and tears were running down her face. The poor girl was obviously hysterical. He ought to call Madam Pomfrey. "I'm terribly sorry," he began again. "My wife is a metamorph you see, and I thought she was playing a prank on me, pretending to be a student. I never meant for this to happen…"

She was giggling. No, she was beyond giggling. She was laughing so hard she was no longer making any noise, just shaking uncontrollably. The poor child had obviously come completely unhinged.

Remus backed toward the floo, anxiously watching the unstable girl as he reached for the jar of floo powder. Then he noticed something odd. The tips of her pigtails had turned color.

"You! It _is_ you, you little minx!" he pointed at her accusingly as she collapsed on the floor, giving up the morph entirely. "You… Wait, who was in the fire?"

"McGonagall," Tonks finally gasped. "Polyjuice and hair color charm."

Remus just stared in disbelief, his heart finally beating again. "McGonagall?"

"Mhmm," Tonks wiped her streaming eyes with the hem of her shirt. "Said you deserved it after all the pranks you and the other Marauders got up to when you were students and she couldn't do anything about it other than give you detentions."

"I had no idea she was so… vengeful," Remus said faintly, wondering if he would need to seek therapy for the idea of McGonagall posing as his wife.

Tonks grinned wickedly. "Why do you think Snape went on sabbatical?"

"She impersonated you to torment Snape?" he raised a brow.

"No," Tonks chuckled, adding wickedly, "Well, not yet."

Remus gave her a look that communicated horrified incredulity.

"No!" she was laughing again. "Get your mind out of the gutter! Eurgh!"

Tonks pushed him until the backs of his knees hit his chair, flicking her wand to lock the floo and door against inopportune visitors. "Now," her voice dropped to a husky whisper as she loosened his tie, "You wouldn't believe the amount of time I wasted working that essay."

"Because you knew it would drive me crazy?" he dropped into his chair.

"Oh yes," she snickered, hiking her skirt to straddle his lap. "Not to mention this fantasy I've had lately about a certain sexy professor helping me with my homework."

"If you're doing this for extra credit, I'll give you an O on your final," Remus's lips twitched as his hands settled familiarly on her hips.

"Damn right you'll give me an O," she murmured, arching against him. "Probably more than one…"


	7. Home Ec Championship

Disclaimer: Not written for profit.

A/N: for MrsTater, who initially suggested a folding charm that made Andromeda Tonks look like a domestic failure.

As I glance over this smutless document, I am reminded of Tonks's quote in OotP. "It's a bit _too _clean, d'you know what I mean? Bit unnatural."

¤.¸¸.·´¨»«´¨·. ¸¸.¤

_****__Hogwarts Home Ec Happy Homemaker Championship_

"Welcome to today's championship match, Gryffindor versus Slytherin," Selene Boot's voice lilted over the crowd. "The sky today is overcast and the breeze is not conducive for line-drying. What are our competitors to do?"

Students glanced at the bewitched ceiling, shaking their heads in dismay, urgently whispering concern amongst their friends.

Lights in the Great Hall had been fluorescently brightened to rival those in a Muggle Laundromat and the atmosphere was rife with tension as the combatants faced off against each other.

Chanting could be heard from the Support Squad as they performed the Seven Spatula Salute. The crowd responded eagerly, contributing to the noise level by clanking their tongs enthusiastically.

"Molly Prewett and Andromeda Black, team captains and arch rivals for Gryffindor and Slytherin, respectively, are the finalists for today's event. You may remember Miss Prewett won last week's knitting and sock darning competitions, while Miss Black edged a lead in the trunk-packing and dusting charm contests." The Ravenclaw commentator paused while the crowd demonstrated their admiration in the form of whirring eggbeaters and flapping dish towels.

"Tonight, our talented competitors will vie for titles in laundry and meal preparation. In case of a tie, there will be a sudden death match involving a simulated family situation. Our judges today are Professors McGonagall and Flitwick. Please give them a warm welcome this evening."

Selene waited for the clanking applause and teapot whistles to die down before continuing. "As a public service announcement, Mr. Lovegood, new section writer for the Home and Family column in the Quibbler and recent graduate of Hogwarts, offers a helpful household hint."

"Hello Hogwarts!" At the polite smattering of applause, Mr. Lovegood blinked at the crowd, seeming surprised to see people in the seats. "Oh, good evening everyone, I was just talking to the castle. She gets lonely, you know. You all ought to give her a friendly pat on the bricks every so often; let her know you appreciate her. So yes, what did you need, Miss Boot? You're very pretty, by the way. Oh right, helpful hint, yes. Here we are then: Never use bubotuber pus in place of bundimun secretion in cleaning potions. Or is it the other way 'round? Right, well, carry on then!" He waved merrily and took a seat next to Miss Boot, who cocked her head and blinked owlishly at him before resuming her reporting of events.

"Tonight's contest will test the time management skills of the competitors, as well as the quality of their workmanship. They must prepare a meal and do three loads of laundry. Time allotted is twenty minutes. Good luck contestants! Begin at the buzzer!"

_BUZZ!_

Selene's voice took a slightly edgy tone. "Molly Prewett has chosen to begin with the meal preparation. She has set the sauces simmering, potatoes peeling and beef browning. She has chosen simple fare: roast beef and Yorkshire pudding; a hearty meal she would feel comfortable serving her brothers, the Headmaster or even… a certain wizard?"

The crowd tittered when Molly's cheeks visibly pinked.

"What's this? She's added a pinch of cinnamon and a dash of nutmeg to the pumpkin juice!" The crowd gasped in response. "Judges! Is that against regulations?"

A curt, approving nod from McGonagall drew mutters from the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, in an unprecedented move, Miss Prewett has made an alteration to her menu. Will it be considered a calculated risk or an unmitigated failure? That remains to be seen.

"Meanwhile, Andromeda Black is already on her second load of laundry. Witches and wizards, have you ever seen whiter whites? She has utilized a drying charm on the first load and… shooting stars, she's starching the sheets!"

The crowd broke into spatters of spontaneous applause.

"Now those are some crisp linens, my friends! Be careful with those hospital corners, Miss Black, you could take an eye out! She's done a fantastic job here tonight, finishing her third load in record time and folding with incredible precision.

"Our contestants are changing over now. Miss Black is planning to prepare a difficult gourmet meal this evening. Her crown roast lamb could earn her extra points, but only if she can finish it in the time allotted. It will be a close call, folks! Look at that wand movement as she chops the apples and celery for the stuffing!"

The tension in the air was palpable. The crowd had risen to their feet, straining for a better view. The noise level had grown to a dull roar.

"Great heavenly hippogriffs! Miss Prewett is attempting to launder a dress robe that clearly says 'Dry clean only'! As if adding spices to pumpkin juice wasn't unconventional enough, now she's stepped into the realm of impossibility! It is unlikely that Hogwarts has ever seen the types of risks taken today!"

A buzzer sounded and the crowd groaned.

"Sorry ladies, time is up!"

Molly and Andromeda quickly moved off to the side, dusting flour from their aprons before clasping hands in a show of friendly camaraderie. "Judges? Are the scores ready?"

McGonagall and Flitwick handed over their score sheets.

"Ah, Miss Black earned a perfect score on the laundry, but lost a point due to insufficient time for the heating charms on the crown lamb. While not cooked quite thoroughly enough for most in the wizarding community, it would be perfect if she ever needed to serve dinner to a werewolf."

The crowd laughed and applauded appreciatively.

"Miss Prewett achieved a perfect score on laundry as well with the use of the extra credit dry cleaning spell. Her meal plan was less ambitious than Miss Black's so earned her fewer points even though technically perfect… What's this! Miss Prewett is pointing at her oven. Have you forgotten something, Miss Prewett? Can it be? No. Yes! It is! It's an Apple Crumble! Kept warm with a warming charm, how very clever!"

McGonagall and Flitwick conducted a swift whispered conversation and then flicked their wands at the score sheets.

The crowd moaned in anticipation as the delicious aromas wafted through the Hall, sending the Support Squad into a frenzy of basting-brush-waving excitement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a tie!" Selene's astonished voice rang throughout the Hall.

¤.¸¸.·´¨»«´¨·. ¸¸.¤

Remus and Tonks stumbled away from the Pensieve in the library, laughing.

"I've always wondered what that trophy of Mum's was for," Tonks giggled.

"You've not seen that memory before?" Remus's brows arched in surprise.

"No!" she exclaimed. "I can't believe there used to be a competition like that at Hogwarts. And it was fun! You'd think a housekeeping competition would be, erm, well, dull as dishwater."

Remus chuckled. "Life was different back then," he shrugged. "Voldemort wasn't a household name - or hyphenated no-name - yet. Witches were expected to stay home and raise their families. Cooking, cleaning, knitting and sewing were highly prized skills."

"You know I love it when you turn on that stuffy history professor charm," she winked suggestively.

Remus reproachfully and significantly tilted his head towards the dining room door where her parents were undoubtedly eavesdropping and steered the conversation back to safer topics. "The Dueling Banjos music Dumbledore added in the tiebreaker drink-mixing round was a nice touch." 

Tonks flashed a mischievous smile as she sidled closer. "Oh, and the look on Mum's face when they told her she had to mix drinks for her husband and guests while tending four children," she chortled, "I thought she was ready to surrender then and there."

Remus shook his head in amusement. "She did wonderfully. And even back then, Molly had a way with children. They gave her a set of simulated twins, did you notice?"

Tonks nodded, eyes wide. "Brilliant, using sticking charms on the seats of their trousers to fasten them to the rug! And then she conjured feathers for them after putting honey on their fingers."

"She mixed the drinks too strong though," Remus smiled, "that's what gave your mum the edge."

Tonks raised a brow. "Were you hoping I'd inherited Mum's drink-mixing abilities?"

"Of course not," he smiled, guiding her through the door into the dining room where her parents were waiting for them. Under his breath he muttered, "Her laundry charms were quite impressive, though."

Tonks elbowed him in the ribs before moving forward to take a plate from her mother. "Smells great, Mum, what's for dinner?"

Andromeda's eyes twinkled. "Crown roast lamb, of course."


	8. The Werehouse

Disclaimer: No profit being stolen from JKR by this fic. Any other similarities are purely coincidental and completely unintentional. Except Gil Pinkyhunk's name. That was inspired, and she knows who she is.

**_The Werehouse _**

"We have a bit of a problem," George's voice sounded unusually ominous under the hood of his cloak.

Fred's head emerged from behind the beaker of liquid he'd been observing. "What kind of problem?"

"It's our friend, Gil Pinkyhunk." George unwound his muffler and pulled off his mitts, using his wand to dry them.

"Gilly? Our one-legged pole-dancing stripper?" Fred's brows knit in concern. "What's the trouble, Double?"

George did a quick warming charm on his chilled toes. "Well, I contacted her about our latest venture, and she agreed, on the condition we help her with a spot of trouble she's having. Turns out that little git Malfoy heard the ridiculous rumor about Harry hunting for whore crutches awhile back. Now he's been on a mission to steal them before Harry gets them. No street corner in London is safe anymore. Any bird in a skirt using a crutch or even a cane falls victim to Malfoy and his cronies. It's become an epidemic. I understand McGonagall beat Goyle about the head when he tried to nick her cane last week."

"I can see why Gilly's had all she can _stand_. She's probably _hopping_ mad, actually," Fred sniggered, ignoring his twin's rolling eyes. "What does she want us to do about it?"

"Well, she wants him stopped, naturally."

"Isn't that what we have MLEs for?" asked Fred dismissively, turning his attention back to his bubbling beaker. "Magical Law Enforcers should be dealing with petty thieves."

"If their kind of punishment was suitable, I suppose." George's expression held more than a bit of gleeful malice.

Fred turned slowly to consider his twin. "What have we got in mind, then?"

¤.¸¸.·´¨»«´¨·. ¸¸.¤

"Auror Tonks, we'd like you to meet Gil Pinkyhunk," George introduced the women smoothly. "Gil is one of our favorite entertainers, and our newest employee."

"We've met," Tonks said dryly. She rather vividly recalled hauling the woman in for questioning once. "Only I think her name was Gilpin Pimpy then."

"My stagename was Gulpin Plimpy," Gil corrected sniffily. "I was forced to change it when this crazy bug-eyed blonde girl kept stalking me and pelting me with Gurdyroots."

"Moving right along," Fred hastily interrupted, glancing out the window uneasily. "Gil here needs some undercover work done, and your name came up, Tonks."

Tonks eyebrows shot up. "I don't do that kind of undercover work," she said, her gaze warily scanning the other woman from head to foot. "As oddly appealing as she is."

Gil gave an exasperated and rather unladylike snort. "This is the best you have?" she asked, turning accusingly on the twins.

His hands held out a gesture imploring patience, George tried to explain. "Wait, wait, listen ladies, please?"

Fred broke in, "Yeah, no catfights. At least not 'til we have the mud wrestling ring installed." He ducked reflexively.

"Explain. Now." said Tonks tersely, her wand leveled at the twins. Gil turned away, snapping her gum and painting her nails.

"Right, well, we're opening a club," Fred began.

"And coffeehouse," his twin added.

"Fine, coffeehouse and workout gym by day; nightclub by night," Fred grinned.

"And?" Tonks frowned, trying to ignore the familiar twinges of a twin-induced migraine beginning in her left temple.

"It'll be brilliant!" George enthused. "We'll have exercise dance classes by day - pole dancing is the newest fitness craze, you know – and the graduates will provide entertainment in the evenings."

"And we'll need bouncers," Fred sniggered, his hands cupped at chest level. "On trampolines, preferably."

"How does any of this require Auror involvement?" Tonks asked, raising her wand to her head, hoping to quell the twinges before they bloomed into a raging case of tunnel vision and vomiting.

"This involves a sideline job just for you, actually," said George, shrugging. "You know about the rash of crutch and cane thefts throughout London? Gilly here needs someone to capture the ringleader of the operation before she can start working for us. She is about to fall under our protection as our Head Instructor." He ignored Fred's snigger. "You're our first choice for solving that problem. We'll even let you take her class for free."

"So your plan is to start a new business, hire Miss Hinkypunk –"

"Pinkyhunk." Gil corrected, idly examining her manicure for streaks, blowing a bubble worthy of Droobles.

"Right, Pinkyhunk here, as an aerobic pole dancing instructor, with me taking the class in disguise, sustaining an injury that renders me crutch-worthy, all so I can nab Malfoy?"

George and Fred gazed at each other a moment before turning back to Tonks.

"Yeah, that sounds about right." George nodded.

"Yeah," Fred echoed. "Good plan, eh?"

"And have you discussed this with your esteemed consultant?" Tonks's eyebrows quirked skeptically.

"Erm," the twins exchanged another glance. "Well, no, you see, he's been very busy at Hogwarts lately. And we thought you might like to keep this quiet."

"Why?" She gave them a look that plainly said she was only listening long enough to gather sufficient dirt to set her werewolf husband on them.

"Isn't his birthday coming up rather soon?" Fred grinned suggestively.

"I bet you could even get Robards to pay for extra lessons," George mused. "Like taking ballet, to improve your grace and stealth skills."

Tonks snorted, imagining Robards signing off on _that_ request form. "Still, I get the feeling there's something you're neglecting to mention. I'm guessing you want a little quality time with Malfoy before I take him in?"

"Obviously," Fred shrugged.

"So what is the name of this new establishment?" she asked, pinching the bridge of her nose as she considered her options. She wasn't quite ready to agree to the assignment, but she hadn't seen a lot of Auror action lately either, and Malfoy's capture would be rather a notch in her belt...

"Ah, you'll love it," Fred grinned. "We're calling it 'The Werehouse,' in honour of our esteemed consultant. We know as much as he likes to be the civilised tea drinker and bookworm during the daylight hours, he can be quite the party animal under cover of darkness."

"This mission, should you choose to accept it, would benefit all parties involved," George continued in a reasonable tone. "You'll get free lessons and the opportunity to nab Malfoy on counts of petty theft and general annoyance, or whatever it is you're going to charge him with. Gilly gets rid of a nuisance and safety hazard, and we…"

"We get to watch," Fred grinned.

Tonks rolled her eyes.

"We'll be working." George shot his brother a warning glance. "Malfoy will be the perfect test subject for a few of our new products, but The Werehouse will be an extension of our shop, essentially. We have some new products to test market with the coffee shop crowd. See, we're hoping to attract some new clientele, like introverted writers who would normally sit home, all alone." He pulled a small figure from his pocket. "This is my favorite."

"It looks like Percy," Tonks said, peering at the tiny shape.

"Moony put us onto it, actually." Fred raised a brow significantly. "Something about our Spell Checking Quills not catching enough errors in essays he set his classes."

Tonks grinned to herself as she inspected the little person, no larger than a chess piece. "So what does this thing do?"

"He checks essays for mistakes." George set the little statue on an issue of _The Daily Prophet_, where it began hovering and pointing out errors in a snooty voice.

"So it reads through and offers suggestions?" Tonks watched in fascination.

"Yes," Fred grinned wickedly. "We call him the 'Master Beta.'"

"There's more than one reason he looks like Percy," George said, shrugging a shoulder.

¤.¸¸.·´¨»«´¨·. ¸¸.¤

"And how was your little excursion into pole-aerobics?" Remus raised an amused brow over the top of his _Prophet_.

"Sweaty." Tonks wiggled her eyebrows, bending to give him a hello kiss. "Good thing I'm not counting on this as a backup profession. I don't think I was made to bend like that." She stretched and rolled her shoulders. "More fun than I expected, though. Gilly is quite a good teacher."

"I never took you for a closet ecdysiast." Remus watched her shuck her cloak and drape it over a chair back. He casually used his wand to move it to the coat rack near the door.

"I don't get dizziest in closets," she said, giving him a puzzled look.

"Not closet dizziest; closet _ecdysiast_," Remus chuckled. "A secretive stripteaser."

Tonks's lips twitched. "Then we've not been in enough closets together, have we?"

"We'd have to decimate your shoe collection before we'd fit in ours," he huffed, shaking his newspaper to straighten it as he went back to an article on the reported increase in smuggling of Class C Non-tradable substances.

She elbowed his head as she rounded his chair. "I'm off to the shower. I'd have reminded you that loos can be called water closets, but after that shoe comment…" She shook her head in mock regret and sauntered down the hall with a seductive sway of her hips. She turned in the doorway, leaning back against the frame to give him a lazy appraisal. Remus seemed intent on his paper, but she knew he was watching from the corner of his eye. She reached up slowly, deliberately; grasping the edge of the doorframe behind her. Lifting her chin and arching her back, she demonstrated a tricky full body undulation followed by a curving twist of her torso that would have been best accompanied by finger cymbals. With a flourish of her wand, she stepped over the threshold, leaving her clothing dangling in midair.

"I do believe I'm looking forward to my birthday this year," Remus murmured, discarding the newspaper as he rose from the table, loosening his tie.

* * *

¤.¸¸.·´¨»«´¨·. ¸¸.¤

"I don't like this," Remus frowned irritably, watching Tonks wriggle into a rather skimpy outfit.

Tonks twitched an eyebrow. "You liked it fine last night," she retorted. "You're lucky the birthday cake and frosting didn't leave stains. Besides, I'm just dancing in the background. Gilly is the main attraction."

"Men will be ogling you!"

"It won't be my real body!" She rolled her eyes. "I used to do things like this all the time. I'm an Auror, and I'm a prime candidate for slag duty, with the built-in disguises. I'll be on stage, in the back. No one will even notice me, much less be able to grope."

"They'll notice when you fall."

"Oh relax, Mr. Growlypants." She chucked him under the chin. "I just have to pretend to break my leg."

"Why must you publicly break your leg to get crutches?" Remus griped. "And why would you _need_ crutches? A healer would fix it in a trice."

Tonks made a face. "Because Malfoy will be in the audience. He frequents nightclubs with dancers to find targets. This is Amateur Night, so he'll be anticipating injuries."

"A veritable buffet," said Remus with a grimace.

"You should come," Tonks encouraged. "You could see Gilly perform. She does some amazing things with smoke and lights." Tonks neglected to mention the odd fetish the dance instructor had for luring patrons into the loo afterwards, but that didn't seem particularly significant.

Remus covered his eyes with a hand before wiping it down his face, sighing in resignation. "Fine, but I'll be using a Disillusionment charm rather than an Invisibility cloak. The cloak inhibits movement by not providing adequate coverage for a man of my height, and sticking charms are inconvenient."

"Why do I get the feeling you've tried sneaking into clubs with a cloak before?" She pinned him with a pointedly amused look. "More of your Maraudering ways, perchance?"

"Someone had to watch over Sirius and be the Appointed Apparator to get us home," he shrugged.

Tonks grinned, moving close enough to tickle him with her tassels. "This'll be fun, you'll see."

¤.¸¸.·´¨»«´¨·. ¸¸.¤

Apparating to The Werehouse and applying a Disillusionment charm took only the merest of minutes. Finding a seat in the shadows that also afforded a good view of the stage took more time. Finally sliding into an unoccupied chair, Remus cast a subtle repelling charm to deter other patrons from approaching his table. The dim lights faded as the music shifted to a slow, throbbing beat. Center stage, a spotlight illuminated a striking woman descending from the ceiling, sliding down her pole with a hypnotic, serpentine grace. Her body writhed and contorted as she lowered herself to the floor. The other dancers trickled into their places behind her, weaving amongst each other as they performed agile acrobatics on the poles.

Remus kept his eyes fixed on Tonks, appreciating the flex of smooth muscles as she climbed the pole and spun down slowly. As the music picked up speed and intensity, the movements of the dancers became more fluid and provocative. Lost in the movement and music, Remus gasped and leaped to his feet with the rest of the crowd when Tonks crashed to the floor. Reminding himself it was all an act, he remained at his table, albeit anxiously.

George was onstage in moments, conjuring a stretcher and removing Tonks from the stage while the rest of the dancers continued the performance. Backstage, Remus knew Fred was probably conjuring a cast and handing Tonks a set of specially prepared crutches.

Remus focused on the office door, waiting. Within minutes, Tonks emerged, waving away offers of assistance. He heard a few of her self-deprecating comments as she made her way across the room, heading for the exit. His eyes darkened when he noticed groping hands brushing against her body. Tonks gave no sign of noticing the brief touches as she limped, though Remus heard a yelp of protest when a crutch point made painful contact with someone's shin.

Stealthy movement to his left alerted him to the presence of someone else skulking in the shadows. He followed the cloaked figure, careful to stay far enough behind to not be noticed.

Every muscle in his body tensed as he watched the figure close in on a hobbling Tonks. He stealthily moved closer, wanting to be in a position to help, but knew Tonks would not thank him for interfering. Two other hulking shapes moved out from an alley in front of her and Remus cursed under his breath. Tonks was well and truly trapped now, and his heart thudded in his chest as he watched the dark figures draw in - predators circling their prey.

He was forced to watch helplessly, knowing he was too far away to cast accurately without risking hitting Tonks with a spell. Part of his mind reminded him that she was an Auror and wasn't truly injured, but the other part snarled with fear and frustration, desperately urging him to creep closer.

He could see her face now, a mask of vulnerability as she slowly turned in a circle, taking count of her attackers. She hadn't even drawn her wand. Remus felt his stomach twist further when two of the three hoodlums began jeering, loudly noting her various assets and the fun they ought to have with her. One of them yanked her cloak off, revealing the dancing costume that bared entirely too much skin.

"Oh, this one is fit," leered one of the troll-shaped minions. "Bet she'll put up a good fight."

"What do you want from me?" Tonks cried in a convincingly wavering voice. "Are you the dreaded crutch bandits? You can't take these, I have to go to St. Mungo's to get my leg fixed!"

"You'll have even more reason to go there if you resist," said a smooth, instantly recognizable voice.

As sudden as skrewt sparks, Tonks whipped the crutches straight out in front of her and spun on her heel, felling two of the attackers upon contact. The other had turned to flee, but hit the ground a split second later when a jolt of red light flared from the crutch tip and struck his retreating back. Tonks dropped one of the crutches and rapped the other sharply with her knuckles. Her wand popped out of the wood frame and she wasted no time casting binding charms on the three inert forms on the ground.

"You can come out now, Remus," she called.

Remus stood, blowing out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He Disillusioned himself quickly, moving quickly to pull her close.

She seemed amused at his reaction. "What's the matter? Didn't you think I could handle those three amateurs?"

She returned his hug quickly, then stepped back with a gleeful chortle, surveying her trussed catches like a string of fish on the ground. "Walked right into my trap, they did." She patted his shoulder. "Thanks for staying out of it, love. You were a perfect backup. Everything went according to plan."

"Three on one was part of your plan?" he asked.

She shrugged. "They're sons of Death Eaters. You think they're gonna play fair? I knew you'd be back there to catch any of them that got away." She tapped her cast with her wand and it unraveled to a pile of cloth strips on the ground. "Hmm, now how shall we contain them until the boys have time to deal with them?"

Remus picked up a crutch. "We could use these…"

"Oh, good idea!" she enthused. "They're charmed to be unbreakable already, and they conduct magic as well, so they work as an extension of a wand." She picked up the other crutch, transfiguring it into a double set of stocks. She picked up two of the fallen wands, fusing them into the wood grain with a muttered incantation. She levitated the two larger captives into place and closed the stocks with a satisfying bang. The structure glowed for a moment.

Remus handed her the other crutch respectfully and watched her repeat the process before he ducked back into the club to inform the twins of the successful mission. When he came out again, he noticed Tonks had used the cloth strips to blindfold and gag the three miscreants.

"I'm sure Fred and George will be responsible in their handling of Malfoy and his mates," Tonks shrugged, thumping the unconscious white-blond head carelessly. "I'll pick them up in the morning and take them in for questioning."

Remus gave her a sidelong glance as he struggled to subdue the wildly rattling case the twins had pressed on him before he left. "I'd be more confident in Fred and George's respectability if they hadn't just asked for assistance in developing a product they've dubbed 'Boggarts Under the Bed.'"

"Oooh," she grinned wickedly, pocketing her wand and taking hold of one end of the box with delight. "Are we Beta testing that tonight?"

* * *

Hinkypunk - A little one-legged creature with the appearance of being made of smoke, the hinkypunk carries a light with which it lures travelers into bogs. (Courtesy of the HP Lexicon site) 


	9. It's Not Whether You Pin Or Ooze

Disclaimer: Not JKR. None of this is her fault. The blame lies with someone who thought Gil ought to venture into plotless mud wrestling. ;)

A/N: Thanks to Kerichi for adding flavor to my summary. And to my Fridays. ;)

* * *

It's Not Whether You Pin or Ooze;  
_It's How You Say the Name _

Fred and George conjured chairs on either side of Tonks as she sipped tea at her corner table at the Werehouse, waiting for Remus to join her.

"Wotcher, boys," she greeted with more than a hint of suspicion.

"How's our very favourite Auror?" Fred slung his arm companionably around her as he seated himself. She scowled pointedly at his hand resting on her shoulder before looking over at George.

"What do you want?"

George covered his heart as though mortally wounded. "Why must you suspect we want anything more in life than to merely share breathing space with such a lovely specimen of femininity?"

"Because every time you approach me, it involves a plan getting someone to remove their clothes," she said dryly.

Catching the guilty glance that passed between them, she rolled her eyes and huffed, "What is it this time?"

"It's our birthday coming up," Fred began, grinning fiendishly, "and we've got this brilliant idea."

"In celebration, we'd like to christen the mud wrestling ring," George continued, "but we can't trust that to just anyone."

Tonks massaged an eyebrow.

"Gil is our first choice, of course, and she's already agreed," said Fred. "So now we need to find an opponent worthy of her."

"She would have to be very strong." George stroked his jaw thoughtfully.

"Best if it's someone who's taken Gil's classes, as well." Fred duplicated his twin's contemplative gesture.

"But really, someone with two legs would have an unfair advantage, don't you think?" George narrowed his eyes.

Tonks snorted. "Are you kidding? Have you not noticed the muscles on that woman? She could take on the both of you with one arm tied behind her back."

Fred's eyes closed in an expression of blissful contemplation.

George cleared his throat significantly. "Well, for a fair, friendly and fun competition, perhaps her competitor should be similarly, erm, balanced."

"Oh that's brilliant!" Tonks grinned in wicked delight. "You're putting Mad-Eye in the ring with her without his peg!"

Fred's expression of shocked disgust – and no small amount of fear – made the whole conversation worthwhile, she thought gleefully.

"Actually," George broke in, looking more than a little disturbed as well, "Perhaps someone who could _morph_ into a similarly formidable opponent would be appropriate."

Tonks heaved an exasperated sigh. "You boys are absolutely crackers, you know that?"

"So you'll do it?" Fred asked hopefully.

"Hell no! What gave you that impression?"

"But you'd be so perfect," George wheedled. "You are the only person we know who could give Gil a run for her money."

"So?" Her voice rose dangerously. "Why in bloody hell would I want to indulge your idiotic schoolboy fantasies?"

"Because you love us?"

"And it's our birthday?"

She shook her head firmly, glancing at her watch. "Where is Remus? He should've been here by now."

"He's running a bit late," George remembered. "He flooed a bit ago to ask us to let you know."

"Spectacular. Don't you have some business to attend to?" she asked. "Someone else to proposition?"

"Nope," Fred answered brightly.

"Wonder if Hermione would do it," George mused.

Tonks laughed. "She would hex you within an inch of your life for suggesting it. And then Ron would thrash you and leave you for dead in an alley."

"We've asked Alicia, Angelina and Katie." George shrugged. "They've all agreed, but we'd need a fourth person for a tag-team match, and Gil won't do that."

"Ginny would probably do it," Fred offered. "She used to scrap with us and hold her own."

"Harry would turn you both into cats, tie your tails together and drape you over a clothesline," said Tonks with absolute conviction.

"Hey, good idea for our next birthday." Fred quirked a brow at his twin.

"Provided you live that long," said Tonks disparagingly.

"We could do that sometime when we want to draw a crowd," George decided, tapping his chin absently. "This birthday party is by invitation only."

"What if we fill the ring with something other than mud?" Fred turned to Tonks again. "Though mud is quite good for the complexion."

"Why would that make it any more appealing?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"Surely you can't tell me you've never wondered what it'd be like to roll around in a vat of jelly," George scoffed disbelievingly.

"No," Fred moaned rapturously, "_Chocolate_."

"A vat of melted chocolate…" George considered thoughtfully. "Contestants in _tasteful_ bathing costumes…"

Tonks glanced at her watch again, jiggling her foot irritably as she wondered how much longer Remus was going to keep her waiting with Tweedle-dumb and Tweedle-dumber. She'd like to see _them _pound the snot out of each other in wrestling ring...

She went still as she was struck by the thought. Her eyes narrowed speculatively as she glanced over at the yet-unused wrestling ring.

"Why don't you have men wrestling in chocolate?" she inquired with a sly smile.

"There are," George looked surprised that she imagined otherwise. "That's why we have to limit this to an 'Invites Only' party. Almost everyone we mentioned it to thought it'd be a blast and wanted to try it."

"What about co-ed wrestling, then?" She arched a brow. Perhaps this could be worked to her advantage.

"Sure, why not?" Fred gestured expansively.

"You could give a exhibition of what a proper Auror can do," Fred suggested. "Probably get Robards to pay you overtime."

Tonks pressed her lips together, thinking. Aurors did get overtime for demonstrations...

Taking her hesitation as assent, Fred leaped to his feet in delight, "Brilliant! I'll tell Gil the match is on!" He turned to dash for the stairs, ignoring her splutters of protest.

George stood as well. "I think I'll go have a chat with Ron, Charlie and Harry. They'll go along now that you and Remus are joining in the fun."

Tonks blinked, wondering what she'd just got herself roped into. "I'm going to regret this," she sighed, letting her head drop to the table.

Remus strode through the door a few moments later. "Hello, love," he whispered in her ear. He shifted her hair to kiss the nape of her neck, as her forehead was still pressed to the table. "Rough day?"

She lifted her head. "You might say that." She glared at him accusingly. "I was accosted by those dratted twins, who tricked me into agreeing to something I had absolutely no intention of agreeing to, all because you were late."

Remus seemed to struggle to control a brief twitch at the corner of his lips. "Whatever it is can't be that bad," he soothed.

"They talked me into morphing to match Gil Pinkyhunk and wrestle in a vat of melted chocolate."

Remus's eyes widened. "Chocolate?"

"See? I told you it was bad," she grumbled. "Stupid twins and their stupid birthday."

Remus glanced furtively at the empty wrestling ring. "Well, it can't be any worse than the pole dancing, can it?"

Tonks shot him a withering look, "Shouldn't you be upset on my behalf?"

"You already agreed to it." He shrugged. "I don't see how my getting upset would help matters."

Surveying him through slitted eyes, she caught a glint of mischief in his expression. "You bastard! You were in on it the whole time!"

"In my defense, I never imagined you'd agree to it." He held his hands out in a placating gesture. "I merely agreed that you be allowed to consider the idea."

"I can't believe you," she fumed. "You're just as bad as they are!"

Remus chuckled and summoned himself a cup of tea.

"You won't look so smug when you find out I volunteered you as well," she said, arching a brow in challenge.

When Remus didn't react, her eyes nearly bulged from her sockets. "What? That was a setup as well?" she gasped. "Son-of-a-jarvey's-uncle…"

She fixed him with a glare. "I will get you for this."

"Promises, promises." He grinned lazily as he stirred his tea, cutting his eyes at the wrestling ring suggestively.

* * *

"I don't know how I get roped into these things," Tonks grumbled to herself, her arms crossed as she watched the tag-team match. 

Angelina flipped Alicia, who rolled across her shoulders and executed a perfect flip, sticking her landing and tossing her head to liberally rain chocolate on the audience.

Much as she'd hoped for a spectacular clumsy accident to befall her and render her unable to compete, April Fools' Day had arrived without incident. She and the other female "performers" had taken lessons from Gil to learn how to put on a good show without actually injuring each other, but Tonks still dreaded the upcoming match.

"Merlin, like I'm not klutzy enough on two legs." She slipped into a shadowy corner, drew a deep breath and morphed into a one-legged wonder who could have passed for Gil's sister, with hazel eyes and highlighted blonde hair.

Watching as Angelina and Alicia tagged in their partners, Tonks accustomed herself to the discomforting sensation of having two legs bound together as one. She discreetly adjusted her modest wrestling costume with her wand, wondering how many unlikely places she would find chocolate after this was finished.

Ginny and Katie circled each other in the ring. Katie launched herself at Ginny, who deftly spun to the side, leaving Katie to land on the cushioned mat, again splattering bystanders. Ginny pounced, pinning Katie for a split second before being rolled with a shriek.

Several minutes of acrobatic chocolate flinging ensued, with Katie emerging as the eventual winner, having pinned Ginny to the mat for a count of three. As Katie hoisted her to her feet, Ginny grinned good-naturedly, the white of her teeth in sharp contrast to the coating of chocolate she'd accumulated.

Ginny jumped from the ring into Harry's waiting arms, smearing his glasses and discovering that chocolate, in fact, made quite good hair gel. Tonks had never seen Harry's hair quite so tamed.

Tonks snickered and turned back to the ring, watching Fred and George reapply the cushioning charms. They added chocolate to replace what had sloshed or spattered over the sides and a metal cage-like dome around the outside. She wobbled just a bit as she settled herself on her broomstick, hovering above the cage as Lee Jordan applied a Sonorous charm, wand to his throat.

"Witches and wizards, I present to you, a woman of great strength, grace and cunning… Someone who has taken Mad-Eye Moody's motto to new heights… A woman who wants no introduction… _Constance Vigilante_!"

Cheers and whistles greeted her as she dropped from the broom, grasped one of the cage bars and deftly flipped herself into the ring, snorting over the stage name they'd picked for her.

"And her opponent: The incomparable, the incredible, the vision of indescribable loveliness, our very own Giiiiiillll Pinkyhunk!"

Gil descended from a pole, gracefully sliding through the cage bars, twisting and flipping on her way down, finally landing delicately on the floor, where she blew kisses and waved to the screaming audience.

'Constance' and Gil faced each other across the ring as the bell reverberated through the arena. With precision timing, they reached up to grasp the bars overhead and swung from bar to bar, closing in on one another. The reached the middle at the same time, and Tonks swung her torso forward, arching up to catch her ankle on the bar nearest her opponent. She wriggled forward until she could hook her leg more securely and was soon dangling upside down. Gil had done the same, and reached to begin grappling; struggling to pull Tonks from her precarious perch. Tonks fought back, then suddenly let go to swing like an acrobat, gripping Gil's wrists. Tonks planted her foot on the ground and yanked sharply, pulling Gil off the bar and sending her splashing to the chocolate below.

Tonks leaped forward to pin her adversary. Gil turned, catching Tonks and rolling with her momentum. She tucked her leg between them and launched Tonks halfway across the ring.

As the match progressed, the crowd screamed themselves hoarse. Lee gave up on his commentary, abandoning his post to shoulder his way to the ringside and hang on the ropes with the twins. Fred and George whooped and cheered, though who they were supporting was impossible to determine.

The women looked like sisters before going into the ring. With a coating of slick, shiny chocolate, they were identical. Multiple rolls ensured enough confusion that no one could have kept track of which witch was which.

Tonks grinned and signaled Gil, who paused before grasping Tonks's wrist, pulling her off the floor. Gil twisted, half dragging Tonks for a turn before flinging her against the ropes, where she muttered a charm to vanish the cage. Tonks grasped both Fred and George about their necks, holding them fast. Gil launched an attack and somehow, while dragging Tonks back to the center of the ring, pulled Fred and George in as well. Their distinct lack of protest and bright grins led Tonks to believe they weren't overly surprised or dismayed by the development. Even her menacing scowl didn't seem to dampen their enthusiasm.

Each of the women grabbed a twin and forced him face-first to the floor. Too surprised to even struggle at first, the twins finally made a half-hearted effort to wriggle away. They'd had a fair few shots of Firewhiskey and the women held them captive with ease, sitting sidesaddle holding Fred and George down with arms twisted behind their backs. They dumped chocolate over their heads, making sure to trickle it in their ears. When the twins were quite thoroughly saturated, Gil flashed a signal. Tonks subtly flicked the tip of her wand from the disguised holster to cast feather-light charms. Gil and Tonks each lifted a twin, hoisting and spinning them above their heads like batons before launching them out of the ring, watching with satisfaction as they bounced and splattered on the floor and the audience screamed approval.

Gil muttered a Summoning charm for Tonks's broom and when the two of them were situated, she flew them over to where Remus sat with a Butterbeer in hand, overseeing the match with an almost elegant ease.

Simultaneously, they climbed onto his lap and began nuzzling his neck while their hands and lips left chocolate streaks from his chest to his rapidly reddening ears.

Tonks and Gil's every move was perfectly choreographed and with the layer of chocolate and identical morph, Remus should not be able to tell them apart. Gil had gone so far as to assign Tonks tongue exercises to change the way she teased Remus's earlobe. Flashbulbs popped nearby, ensuring Tonks had photographic evidence enough to hold over Remus's head for a long time to come. Judging by his stiff posture and wide eyes, he was well and truly mystified and could not tell them apart. At the very least, he was shocked into silence. Tonks very nearly giggled, but forced the bubble of hilarity into an extra squirmy wriggle instead and enjoyed the subsequent tensing of his muscles beneath her. She rubbed her chocolate-slick chest against him; noting Remus did not seem to know what to do with his hands – or his eyes. Tonks heard Gil whisper something in his ear that raised gooseflesh on his arms. She bit his neck, perhaps harder than was strictly necessary; trying to keep in mind that Gil was a professional. Somehow, that didn't quite ease the irritation.

She shifted on his lap again, regretting the effectiveness of her prank as she resisted the urge to shove Gil off her perch.

Then Remus turned to her.

He winked.

In that moment, she wasn't sure if she wanted to strip him naked and have her wicked way with him or banish him to the vat of melted chocolate and hold his face under until he begged for mercy. Or perhaps both.

He _knew_.

After a split second of astonished exasperation, she snapped her wand out, grabbed both Gil and Remus and Apparated them all back into the chocolate where a free-for-all chocolate-slinging brawl ensued.

* * *

"That was kind of fun I guess," Tonks admitted when they'd gone home. "But how did you know which one was me?" she asked while Remus magicked them clean – mostly. 

"I could tell by the way you squirmed on my lap," he said, crititally eyeing her hair, checking for chocolate he might have missed.

She snorted. "So I gave it away by being wiggly?"

"No, actually, it was your bony bum," he rubbed his thigh. "I think I may have bruises."

"I'll give you bruises!" she retorted, swatting at his shoulder. "Bony bum, indeed!"

"Oh, look," he interrupted, chuckling as he caught her by the waist and pulled her close, tugging her down onto a high-backed kitchen chair with him. "I missed some chocolate. Right here." His mouth under her ear nearly distracted her from her ire.

"You don't prefer Gil's bum then?" she teased.

"Tonks…" He drew her name out in a plaintive whisper tinged with exasperation, his breath tickling her skin.

"_Don't_," she commanded. Remus paused, lips still against her neck.

She rocked her hips, relishing having the ability to straddle once again.

Voice husky and low, she urged, "Call me Nymphadora, Remus."


	10. Rock On

**Summary:** Christmas Eve, candy canes; Remus and wrapping paper. What more could anyone wish for?  
**Disclaimer:** No copyright infringement intended to JKR, Warner Bros, etc. "Santa Baby" song written by Joan Javitz, Philip Springer, and Tony Springer. The leg lamp reference is from A Christmas Story, and the crocheted blindfold I borrowed from Kerichi.  
**A/N:** Written for Metamorficmoon's Advent, utilizing prompts: screaming yo-yo and candy canes.  
This stemmed from a curiosity regarding candy canes across the pond. According to Wikipedia and a link on their site, Brits get to have much more fun with their version of the confection.

_**Rock On**_

Garland and tinsel adorned the dark, silent doorways of Grimmauld Place. Flickering candlelight made artificial snow glitter in the corners, while the scent of pine wafted faintly through the air. Flames crackled cheerfully in the fireplaces and the bells – which usually tinkled merrily when anyone passed by – had been silenced when the youngsters finally retired for the night.

Remus had ensconced himself in the drawing room wrapping gifts. A heavy-looking rectangular package sat at one corner of the table, ready to be sent to the foot of Harry's bed. Several other small gifts were stacked neatly alongside. Remus frowned at the last item, wondering if he ought to conjure a box for it.

"Professor Lupin?" A high, girlish voice called, spurring him to whip the sheet of paper around the object awkwardly, muttering sticking charms.

"Professor Lupin, are you in here?" This time the voice was accompanied by a soft knock and the creak of the door. "Oh, there you are. Sirius told me you might be in here."

"Why hello, Miss Tonks," he answered, stepping forward quickly to shield the misshapen item. "How can I help you this evening?"

"Just 'Tonks,'" she answered automatically, not even bothering with her usual glare. "Would you magic this up to Harry for me?" she asked, tilting her head and fluttering her lashes with saccharine sweetness as she offered a small gift-wrapped box. It was topped with a bright green ribbon that matched her hair – or more probably, that she'd matched her hair to. "With my luck, I'd poke him in the eye. I got him a – Oh wait, I don't want him to hear." She turned to shut the door with a soft _snick_. "Those kids with their Extendable Ears," she tsk'ed, tapping the doorknob with her wand and muttering an incantation for privacy. "I got him a miniature-"

Remus had silently followed her to the door and as she turned, the tip of her nose nearly grazed the front of his jumper. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he watched her face change from a mask of innocent schoolgirl earnestness to an expression altogether more bewitching. Her voice dropped an octave to a husky whisper. "I got him a miniature broomstick. D'you think he'll like it?"

"Nymphadora," he growled warningly.

"Whatever could be amiss, Professor Lupin?" she queried, her arms sneaking up to encircle his neck. "Doesn't everyone need a broomstick to play with?"

He frowned, but his arms looping around her waist belied his expression of irritation. "This is a diversionary tactic. I know why you're really here."

"Mm, do you now?" She rose on tiptoe, stretching her body against his. "Clever of you, as I've just told you."

He chuckled and caught her chin with his index finger, tipping her head back in a diversionary tactic of his own. "Look," he flicked his fingers at the high ceiling. "Mistletoe."

She squinted up before giving him a dubious look. "Are you sure? Looks more like mould. Good job you never taught Herbolo-" Her voice cut off in a shriek of laughter as she pulled her arms back to shield her head, ducking the attack of the leafy sprig.

"Stop it, you prat!" she yelped, swatting at the stem as it zoomed around, pointed directly towards her left ear. When it came at her a third time, she took aim and blasted it into a cloud of green flakes that drifted to the floor like snow.

"What was that?" She peered at the greenery suspiciously.

Remus's lips twitched. "I told you. _'Missile'_-toe."

She rolled her eyes and groaned. "You're horrible."

"You're the one who came sneaking in here to peek at your present," he said reproachfully, tapping her nose.

"I did not!" she denied hotly, forcing her eyes away from the cheerful-looking packages on the table.

"No? Then why were you skulking around so late at night?" he challenged mildly, folding his arms as he moved to stay between her and the gifts.

Her arms slid up around his neck once more. "I was 'skulking around' looking for my Christmas Eve kisses," she said. "Hiding from the kids is fun, but is all this secrecy necessary? You're driving me mad with all this pretend platonic-ness. I just want to grab you and… _Argh._" She wound her fingers roughly in his hair, dragging him down to meet her frustrated, impatient lips.

He smirked against the intensity of her kisses and responded, lacing his fingers through her curls, murmuring between quick breaths, "How very… eloquent… of you."

"I've owled Mum," she said a few minutes later, pulling back a bit. "Told her I wouldn't be there tonight and I'd Apparate over in the morning instead." The corners of her lips twitched. "Told her something… came up." She smiled wickedly.

Remus chuckled, his hands sliding down her sides, pulling her closer. "If this is my Christmas present, I believe it fulfills the 'creativity' requirement you imposed on our exchange."

"Handmade," she quipped, her roaming fingers accenting her words, "with love."

"And I imagined you'd knit me a scarf," he said, feigning disappointment.

Tonks snorted. "I'd have strangled in my own purls."

She pushed away a step and reached into her pocket, pulling out a package that fit neatly on the palm of her hand. "However, I did manage to make this…"

Remus raised a brow. "Trying to entice me into exchanging gifts early?"

"Blatant temptress, aren't I?"

"I haven't even got yours wrapped properly. You interrupted me."

Her eyes lit up as they latched on the package on the table. "Really? I thought you'd wrapped it like that on purpose so I wouldn't feel bad about the crap wrap job I was bound to do on yours. I was going to give you extra points for being so considerate."

"What would I earn with extra points?" he asked interestedly.

"I haven't tallied them yet. Depends what's under the paper." She waggled her eyebrows and winked before tossing her package to him.

"You're such a prefect. Hiding to snog and worrying about points." She reached up to ruffle his hair. "Now open that thing so we can get to bed sometime tonight."

Remus absently straightened his hair as he considered her. With an exaggerated sigh of resignation, he began carefully prizing apart the edges of the Spellotaped paper. Tonks rolled her eyes and huffed with amused annoyance as she watched him painstakingly open the gift.

"A yo-yo!" he exclaimed delightedly when he'd got it unwrapped. "I haven't had one of these in years!" Flicking his wrist expertly he spun the wooden disk to the ground and back up. "I adore it. Thank you."

"Sirius told me it used to be a hobby of yours," she said brightly. "I carved the design and painted it, see?" She reached to point at the spirals on the sides, the grooves filled with vibrant rainbows of color.

Remus gave it another flick, noticing how the colors blended with the light brown shade of the wood to create a whirling kaleidoscope.

"You know the saying, 'If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours. If not, it was never meant to be.' Well, the yo-yo always comes back, you see?"

He raised a brow. "The message then, is that I will be eternally loved… by a yo-yo?"

Tonks glared. "Just spin it three times, smart arse."

Remus sniggered but followed her instructions. The third time the yo-yo returned to his waiting palm, he heard it whisper, "I love you, Remus."

"Variation on the screaming yo-yo," she grinned. "The twins put me onto it."

"I'll have to thank them tomorrow." Remus chuckled, pulling her into a one-armed hug while he admired his gift. "Did they tell you they mastered that spell while I was teaching? They'd stayed after class to clean up and we discussed how Zonko's yo-yos screamed like banshees. Before long, the school was inundated with yo-yos that –rather than mere screaming- shrieked obscenities as if they had contracted Muggle Tourette's Syndrome. I believe that's what led Filch to add yo-yos to his list of Forbidden Items this year."

Tonks gave him a calculating look. "And were you covering banshees in class, by some odd coincidence?"

"It's possible," he said, his expression angelic. "Impressive how they reinforced the lesson by applying their knowledge though, isn't it?"

"So my clever spell is merely a recycled prank that you sneakily got the twins to pull on Filch?"

"Oh no, they came up with the spell to add details to the shrieking entirely on their own," he denied. "And for you to have altered it to whisper endearments requires an even higher level of brilliance." He caught her chin and lightly touched her lips with his. "Thank you for such a perfect and thoughtful gift."

She grinned again, her eyes cutting significantly to the colourful, if ill-wrapped, gift on the table.

Remus frowned, his eyes following hers. "I would've liked to finish wrapping it…"

"What for? I'll just rip the paper off it anyway. It'll save us some time."

"Don't you want to savor the Christmas experience by opening your gift slowly?" he asked. "Why such a rush?"

"Oh, there'll be plenty of savoring later that I think you'll want time for," she said, tossing her green curls over her shoulder.

"You think you know just what to say to get your way with me, don't you."

She shrugged, her expression smug.

Remus mustered a glare nearly worthy of Snape.

Tonks sighed. "Fine. Finish your wrapping." She turned to face the door, grumbling good-naturedly.

"So what did you get for Sirius?" Remus asked conversationally from across the table, his voice raised over the crinkling of paper.

She snickered. "Well, you know how he says, 'Bring us back a stick of rock' every time I leave the house?"

"Mhmm."

"Well, this sweets vendor called Docwra's Rock Shop sells them in other shapes."

The crinkling paused.

"It was a toss-up, really," she continued. "They had baby dummy, big knocker and willy on a stick, but I finally settled on the lady's leg."

Remus chuckled and resumed wrapping.

"There was a one-legged woman at the shop who -I think- posed for it."

"Posed for the leg?" Remus queried as he wrapped. "A sweets model?"

"Mhmm," Tonks twisted her finger into a curl behind her ear. "Though I know sweets modeling is not her _only_ profession. I don't know why she got tetchy when I asked what she charges for housecalls. Sirius would've loved to have her leg - and the rest of her - in his stocking tomorrow morning." She chortled. "He'll have to make do with just a candy leg this year, though. The way it sounded, she must have just finished posing for another body part, but they hadn't made any of those yet. Disappointing, as I rather wanted to tell Sirius to kiss my a-"

"Indeed," Remus interrupted reprovingly, rapping his wand against the box to seal the paper around a corner.

"I liked her outfit," said Tonks, who apparently didn't mind chatting up the door. "Looked a bit like this." She dropped her robes to the floor.

Remus's gift-wrapping brain cells scattered like pigeons in the park.

What very little fabric there was left very little to the imagination. It was red, snug in all the right places and seemed nearly transparent, other than strategically-positioned white fur trim that barely covered her curved rear.

"Came with this, too," she continued, her voice drifting through the hazy buzz in Remus's ears. He watched her bend to pick up the matching Father Christmas hat at her feet and straighten to settle it on her head.

"Anyway, I know that bit of eye candy is really a pole dancing stripper, but she said she didn't make housecalls and besides, she would be busy, dropping in on her friend Nick -or was it Jack?"

Tonks nattered on a bit and Remus hoped the information was inconsequential as he seemed to have completely lost track of the conversation.

With considerable difficulty, he tore his gaze away and tucked in another corner of the wrapping paper, foggily looking for the Spellotape, as he felt entirely incapable of stringing together the incantation for a sticking charm.

Seemingly of their own accord, his eyes drifted back to Tonks. Almost assuredly, the ringing in his ears could not be attributed to Christmas bells...

"Are you finished?" Tonks asked. "Only I haven't heard much paper rustling lately."

Startled into action, he tucked in the final corner and taped it down hastily. "Yes, you can turn around."

His eyes widened as she spun on a heel, causing the already-short skirt to twirl and lift even higher. A neckline that plunged to her navel did nothing to draw his attention up to the saucy grin that dimpled her cheeks.

Tonks's voice filtered through his ears. "She claimed it was a Santa's Helper suit, but it seems a bit chilly to wear up at the North Pole."

Remus had just reached that very same conclusion. In a more coherent state, he might've said it depended what Santa needed help doing, but he settled for simply pushing the neatly-wrapped parcel towards her. He hadn't quite got it all the way across the table, so she had to lean forward and reach a bit. The corner of his lips twitched as he allowed himself a small smirk of appreciation.

"Hmmm," she murmured, either not noticing or not minding where Remus's heated gaze roamed. Absorbed in the magic of an unopened gift, she slid her hands up and down the cylindrical package. "It doesn't seem to be a fruitcake."

"No," he agreed as he moved around the table, tucking his hands in his trouser pockets to keep them off the enticingly bare skin at her waist. "Entirely wrong shape."

"Not a scarf," she continued. "Nor a crocheted blindfold..."

Her fingers twitched, sliding under a layer of paper. She caught him with a narrow-eyed gaze. "It's not a fancy hairbrush, is it? A yo-yo is hardly a watch chain."

Remus shook his head. "I followed the rules. I made it myself and stayed well within spending limits."

"You'd better. Prefects have to follow the rules, you know, or they lose their extra points."

Remus lifted a brow and inclined his head at the package. "Now who is drawing out the gift-opening experience?"

Tonks gave him a sly, sidelong glance. "Bit keen, are we?"

She chuckled at the gleam in his eyes and hesitated for another split second before abandoning all pretense, shredding the wrap in a flurry of paper followed by exclamations of delight.

"Oh Remus!" she gasped, "You made this?" She held up something that looked like a large clear vase; narrower at top and bottom and filled with bright, swirling colours. "What's in it? How do I open it?"

Remus reached over and tapped the end with his wand, causing it to give off a romantic glow as she set it on the table. "It doesn't open. I got the idea from Muggle lava lamps.'"

"Ohh!" she cried delightedly, "Butterflies! The swirls turn into butterflies!"

"Brush-footed butterflies," he explained. "Also known as _Nymphalidae_. Amazing creatures. They seem so delicate and beautiful, but they are also incredibly resilient and resourceful."

Tonks smiled self-consciously, her fingers tracing the path of pink sliding up her cheeks as she stared, entranced, at the swirling and fluttering colours behind the glass. "It's fantastic, I absolutely love it," she murmured.

She turned then and leaped into his arms, knocking him backwards onto a conveniently-placed sofa. "And the lighting… really sets the mood, don't you think?"

"Indeed," he said, drawing a sharp breath as she settled into a more comfortable – or less comfortable, depending on definition - position against him.

"Oh look…" she slid a clasp of his robe open. "We still seem to have a bit of unwrapping to do."

Beyond resisting the impulse any longer, Remus slid warm hands under filmy red cloth. "Ladies first..."

* * *

_"Santa baby, put a leg back under the tree, for me…"_

"Ma'am! Please, you simply must come down! That is the _North Pole_ pole!" A distraught elf wrung his hands as he addressed the unusual, exotic-looking woman perched high above his head.

_"I've been an awfully good girl, Santa baby, hurry down the chimney tonight…"_

"Well, ho ho ho!" Father Christmas approached, black eyes glittering as he watched the graceful woman twist and turn her way down; blonde curls obeying gravity though her body seemed immune. "Gil Pinkyhunk! My favorite one-legged, erm, _entertainer._ How absolutely splendid to see you! I don't suppose you're hoping to make my 'Naughty' list again this year?"

Gil gave another spin around the pole. "Oh Nick," she purred. "I'm so glad you don't have to live up to that 'Saint' reputation all year long."

Old 'Saint' Nick's twinkling gaze turned a bit piratical as he scanned her skimpy attire. "Yo ho ho, t'is a cold night tonight. What do you say to a nip of rum by morning light?"

"I'll have it hot and ready for you when you get back," Gil promised. She sent him a smouldering glance over her shoulder. "The rum, of course."

"Of course," he chortled, patting Vixen's rump affectionately.

He turned to regard his overloaded sleigh. "T'will be a long night, but anticipation will ease the effort."

"Remember that while you're kissing all those mums under the mistletoe," said Gil with a wink.

"I shall do my best," Santa inclined his head, his dimples flashing merrily.

"If you think of it, would you be a dear and see if Ralphie's father has lost his fascination with my lamp?"

"Gil…" Santa shook his head regretfully. "I do not think you'll be getting that back."

Gil sighed. "Ah well…" A wicked smile slid over her features. "Then just bring us back a stick of rock." She handed over a suspiciously rounded, wrapped confection. "And give this one to Nymphadora Tonks."


End file.
